“Anytime one crosses a given stretch of country with some frequency, no matter how wanderingly one begins, the tendency is always toward habit. By the third or fourth trip, without realizing it, one is following a fixed path, going the way one went before. After that, one may still wander, but only by deliberation, and when there is reason to hurry, or when the mind wanders rather than the feet, one returns to the old route. Familiarity has begun. One has made a relationship with the landscape, and the form and the symbol and the enactment of the relationship is the path.”—Wendell Berry, A Native Hill
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They greeted world and morning sun in rekindle of hearth’s fire, lap of the flames to grain of cured, split wood, splintered ends shriven in split of maul curled in heat and burn of the flame.
Morning sun broke golden and full from horizon in spill over all of sky. Through open window and open door, sun flooded too the room in light and beams of gold.
Resting, being, they drank their coffee. They read their books. They shared quiet of morning’s peace and, too, exchanged flirt-eye glances of endearment and affections.
Reading, drinking of coffee’s warmth, sharing morning’s rest and peace, they enjoyed the time of yellow light; and when it passed, sun risen on and colored sky to blue, they moved into begin and habit of their day.
They dressed.
He watched in smile as her night gown fell, nothing worn beneath. Naked too, she smiled on his sign of longing for her sight. Flirting eyes, kiss to his lips, tongue-lingering to his as finger’s circle to his end—promise-tell of more to come—heart’s fluttered of a morning mirth.
She laughed in levity, enjoyment at the tease and seen and known effect she made.
Both lingered a moment longer, pleasured in the playfulness and sight of other in openness.
Dressed, they walked the path they’d come to make in living at the farm. Familiarity and tendency toward habit, they walked bare path through rising pasture, worn trail of habit-pattern left long after last of herd of cattle trod. They turned at the same known trees in woods, stole holds and kisses in same sacred stands where wind danced dappled light; smiles and blush, expressed changings, in familiarity and habit-love.
Returned home, hand in hand and stronger match of hold, they walked. In file of path through pasture stand, she led before. He trailed behind, loving sight and move of her legs and ass.
Through home’s door, intentionally open, they made for bedroom waiting at far end. Window’s open, spread of bed, her fall and draw of him above; both needing for the strength; her body’s pin and fix by his; her hands held and stilled over shoulders in framing of her face; match of their breath, one of their force and rhythm of strikes; her body’s strength and give, then caving onto his; eyes closing as she neared…wave and rock and change to slow through whole, deep-bodies rolls as she gave her song to sky; warm pulse of his free; eyes’ open in the after, adore and amaze in shine from his—smiling into hers.
Pause and intimate of still and rest, notes of the birds in perpetuity of daylight, spring-lover’s song; then smiles again, her flirt of kiss, encouraging his rise. Restored, they return into open-free of body-sing and strong share of lover’s spirits.