Air's Thirst for Water

When she rises to meet me, there’s a moment of fear, of being overwhelmed, yet joyous relief in beholding her beauty and power.

I’m waiting, holding my breath, watching the sand shift beneath my feet. My lover’s waves distort the sand like my winds in the desert; this is where our similarities end.

She’s been calling for me, her scent traveling my winds bringing me to her shore. We’re each other’s secret keepers, twin souls. She beckons, and I come.

When she rises to meet me, there’s a moment of fear, of being overwhelmed, yet joyous relief in beholding her beauty and power. I dive in and add to the tumulus pitch and churn of the water surrounding me.

With my ear to her mouth, I hear the ocean. Wave upon wave of cooling water bathes me in a salty caress. Soon there’s a swell, and I feel her pent-up rage. She spills out her storms. They blast into me, losing steam slowly, petering out on my sandy skin. Holding her as she stills, anger abates for a moment until the next crashing wave. I take it all in. My long dark hair tangles in her light.

With my mouth to her ear, she touches the sky. Zephyrs of delight turn into a gale of icy daggers as I unleash my fury. Pent up storm front pushing against her bountiful encompassing vastness.

Knowing she can withstand the pressure as she has done before. She embraces my tempest until it is spent, and the tears falling around her shoulder are a monsoon’s worth cascading down and pooling in her lap. Her tapered white fingers tangle in my brown.

I bathe in that tear pool, lap up my pain and hers in salt-encrusted delight, and then sleep entwined in her arms when I have exhausted us both. Her cool skin was awash in my blustery warmth.

In the morning, she’ll be gone.

She wants to fly, lighter for her recent release but no freer. She dreams of open skies and untouched lands and solitude. She belongs to no one yet is held captive by her shores. She would roam my lonely sky for a taste of its freedom. A taste is all I can give. A taste is what I’m used to giving, and I can taste her still.

I long for safe harbor. A place that can harness the hurricane without controlling it. A space large enough to hold all that I am and ever hope to be. When together, I am whole. After our encounters, I am calm, if only briefly, the stillness of satiation. The joyous memories of those moments are intangible yet comforting nonetheless, and they keep me light and buoyant when I am heavy and stifled by longing.

I lift up my billowing cumulus, cirrus, and stratus skirts and make a gusty retreat across the atmosphere, dreaming of our next encounter. She is my moonlit muse and forever friend. Look for me tickling her in the ocean’s spray; if you put a shell to your ear, you can hear her laughter.

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