December 2021

by  Robert Beveridge

open yourself to the light.

Nude, wet, beside the lake

you sun yourself, stretched

upon the outcrop. Splashed

with spray, occasional

and keeping you cool

in August sun.

Prone like this, the curves

of breast and buttock flatten.

Delicious straightness broken only

by cold, clear beads of moisture.

Your body touched would move.

I float and stare, observe.