Time of Day
The water steamed,
sending up soft white tendrils
barely visible in the lamplight.
closing his eyes,
letting the warm water soak away
the memory of his work time,
a cold day,
and the feel of snow on his feet
and the wind in his ears,
and the smells of hunger and fear that went with his hunt,
and thought instead of the warm fire
and the warm woman who greeted him,
and the full belly,
and the bed that awaited him –
all those things which made the day worthwhile.
After a while,
a breeze made the lamplight flutter,
and when he looked,
she stood before him,
dressed only in sheer white,
dark shadows behind the fabric
hinting of what lay beneath,
and looking at her half smile,
and the glitter in her lamp-lit eyes,
and the towel in her hands,
he knew that bath time was over.
As she bent over to give him a quick kiss,
he suspected play time, though,
was just beginning.