The mowers have left an uncut patch
where the riders park their bikes in the rack.

You�ve closed your eyes and are breathing deep
nature�s perfume of fresh cut grass.
The warm wind blows your hair and it falls
across your eyes in a way
that, for lack of a better phrase,
thrills me.
Something about it makes you seem carefree
or wild, yes that�s it, wild and untamed.
How exotic you are when your hair falls forward
across your eyes,shading their rich brownness from me,
like a Serengeti cat hiding in the grass.
And when you push it aside
to find me watching you,
you are not surprised.