Ceiling Fan

The heat builds up

Gradually on that first weekend in May

But by Memorial Day

It’s a sauna before the morning

Ebbs into noon

Far too soon

To last the day

Without changing your shirt

At least once

But my favorite part of a hot

Pre-summer day

I suppose

Comes as the light

Begins to fade

And I take my repose

On the chaise

As peaches and pinks

Paint the sky

And you begin to remove

All my clothes

The warm sultry air

Gently stirred

By the slow turning blades above

Whispers across my skin

As we slide down to the floor

Oblivious to everything

Except our need to make love

The evening’s breath

While scented with florals

And softly caressing my face

Can not dare to compare

To the heady musk of our sex

Or the feelings created

By your fingers and face

As you trace lines

Up and down my skin

Spiking pleasure akin

To dying

Each revolution

Of the slow turning fan

Pushing a wave of warm air

Over bodies so hot

That it feels cool

Sweat glistening

On goose pimpled flesh

As we make our way to the bed

The cold sheets

Offer quick relief

Briefly returning my temperature

To normal

Until you join me

Skin touching skin

I welcome you in

To my embrace

Once again pulses race

And we heat up the place

As if Summer needs help

Pushing Spring out the door

No matter how many

Times before

We’ve fallen to the floor

Or the bed or the tub

Or wherever

There’s nothing that reminds me of you

Quite like seeing

A fan slowly turning

Leaving me yearning

For the press of your heat

Against mine

While I love when the air

Turns cold again

Giving me reason

To snuggle closer to you

My favorite season

Is when it’s just warm enough

For the ceiling fan

To be on