Pickled tink

She disrobed, dropping her grey cloak to the horizon,
the water lapped upon her fertile hips,
the branches of her embrace glistened in our sunlight,
the undulations of her form spreading out beneath me as I fell from the sky,
the soft hills and the dark meaningful valleys
the alighting of multi-coloured fireflies along her breathing coastline with evening's fall
and I slipped into the primal, cold waters within reach,
stretching to caress,
my heart racing,
my breathing rapid,
in translucence and in azure dreams
I met Sweet City Seattle, mistress of my now.
I lie inside her tonight.