The slopes that rise and fall
With our breath between them
Are a sihloutte of green hips
On the horizon:
Suspended across the skies
In an effortless sprawl,
They are wild thighs
To the wondering mind
As a pen is to paper
The incarnation of daydreams.
Ohhhwillow 
Beautiful imagery in this poem.
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Thank you Kaci for taking the time to read my scribbles!
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