union

at the intersection of
big sky and
river's bend,
a musky-smelling virile
young man
strips naked,
channels Onan,
and spurts
gooey slimey cum onto the
sandy river bank
in the lush heat of
the last days of
the Summer's sunshine.
ahhh yes, while the
first days of Autumn are
just around the bend,
urgent to plant their kisses on
the hot lips of those last
smoldering days of Summer, as
the certainty of Summer's
end and Autumn's beginning
settles over plain and tree
and river and sky,
the musky-smelling virile
young man gets hard yet again,
stands there admiring
the jut of his big thick dick,
touches it gently, then
with vigor,
and soon he spurts yet another load of
cum in a kind
of cosmically connected
salute to the
rotation of the earth,
its swiveling tilt on its axis, his sex-sighs
mingling with the gasp sounds of
the hot Summer wind.

--Carl Miller Daniels (April 16, 2024)