sock prints on the path

9am, wheels locked, on my favorite side porch
vegetable garden visible beyond the gate
Texas sun already cooking at 90 degrees
thats fahrenheit kids, not centigrade

a sudden smile
a favorite memory unlocked
she approaches the gate at dusk
bare feet covered only in socks

removed, she hangs them on the gate post
her steps light on the powdered earth
loving its feel on bare skin
her strut deadly, giving it all it’s worth

lost in the view of her bending from the waist
sifting the warm dirt - a fist or two
looking up towards me on the porch
smiles asking, enjoying the view

her faded t-shirt riding up
I nod mentioning something about paradise
and how the last lone rays of the day
highlight the mischief in her eyes

is that t-shirt all you have on
she grinned and called me a butt
I suppose you want me to climb up on your lap
and talk about what ever comes up

we both started laughing so loud
that all the tree frogs went quiet
suddenly that t-shirt flew past my head
hands on hips she looked quite defiant

me and the girls are going swimming
well, that’s a trio hard to beat
you, poncho and lefty
I’ll grab some beers and meet y’all at the creek

….warm hands
guiding hard steel
into velvet ecstasy
hands on thrusting hips is all I feel….

I still see those socks
what a sight
hanging on that gate
in the pale memory of yesterdays moonlight