Let The World Go By

No soft mattress underneath,
No cotton sheets or eiderdown,
Nor even the simplest blanket,
Between ourselves and the ground.

Naked 'neath the summer sun,
And branches of the swaying trees,
Fallen twigs cut your supine back,
And indent into my elbows and knees.

We move against the living earth,
Leaves and beech nuts, all long dead,
As orgasmic cries escape your lips,
To mix with the birdsong overhead.