COLD FRONT (for Snuzie)

Lightning sparks; clouds darken.

Spatters start. I smile.
You close the window,
I shut off the dying fan.

The TV set succumbs to static.
Water flows upon the land.
Nature pulls the plug.
Welcome breezes flap the awning.
Shutters bang; we laugh.

You sit astride me,
I come pearls and glassy cream
up into a womb that hovers.
You ask, from a dream:
Like this? My Love?
I grin.