Tiny member of a symphonic choir that sits beside my window every night calling out to his mate... A lovely dancer in a pool of summer's fate... How she lengthens her legs with every glide... across the rippled surface made by a gentle breeze in that beckoning echo of a sound so low and inviting... She raises her eyes above the lotus and knows... with one movement he is hers and he is hers He knows and he knows how to hold on and refuse to let go.
