Turned Towards The Sun

The bushes bend and rustle in the breeze,  
They show their silver leaves to the sunshine;  
Bewildered by this beauty, movements cease
And we stay still in this damp, marshy climb;
If slender stems can sway, supple as grass,
Then I can kneel to sense the softened earth,
Where my shins rest - I watch the waters pass
And look up to observe your eyes; your girth
Is growing at the thought that waves of pleasure
Could be the reward that I seek right now;
As you press forwards, there's no counter measure
To hold your delight or to halt the flow
Of thought, as we both contemplate your fun
And silver white leaves turn towards the sun.