a Winter good morning and welcome extended

 how the morning knows to rise
creeping gently be its light, that of Winter quiet and icy...
the skin to try and kiss through barriers of curtained windows and tight shut doors.
the plushness and softness
of duvets feathery and light, whose warmth be like a fortress
against any harsh and challenging chilly coldness that would pucker the skin
with goose flesh.
the languid unhurried laziness of a morning waking
no hurry but, to stretch the sleep out of a rested body.
limbs rested, mind still lost in a world other than the reality that waits the day
of much shared in company chosen...
for why spoil the perfection of a new start with challenged thought
and restricted ideas
of minds buzzing with a busy nothingness.
so to start honeyed be the morning
a nectar sweet be the ideas that start to waken the spirit
...ideas nothing short of a surrender to the beauty
of  a mind and body fruitful in its wish
to dally in sensual pleasures of two bodies

willing
and
naked.

RB.