The rain starts in spits but soon settles in with the soft spill sound of shelled corn filling a silo. Sometimes we get a little wet but we don’t mind, sitting close to the window so the breeze can cool our skin. We’ve got books to read as we rest but I’m surveying the lands I’ve traversed. Starting at your clavicle, my gaze slips between your mounded breasts, to the rolling plain of your belly. I slide my palm across your navel, then up to hold your breast. You look up from your book with eyes softened by love. You kiss me. I am struck by its tenderness. I open my eyes. You are smiling sweetly at my mouth. You return to your book and I to mine, sitting in the cool breeze of an open window.