Curves and hills are revealed in bands 20 feet wide, 20 feet across
There is no sound but the rushing whir of wind, of blessed air, of speed
A dance of steel and flesh, of power coursing through tubes, through veins
Racing through blackness my hands find your waist, your hips
There is no need to hold tightly the trust keeps us balanced, moving
My feet rest on the pegs my body settles into my bones
For a moment, the world falls away and I rest, in my skin, against you.