The sound of leaves falling on water

Here is a poem I wrote while spending a few days with the radical faeries in Northern Rivers Australia 

Like the sound of leaves falling on water

He works in the rainforest alone

At evening a glance of love towards the Father

When we touch his warmth comes in equal measure from his spirit and his body

His heart moves towards those he loves

Like the sound of leaves falling on water

Great loves are drawn from great silences

Out of solitude comes the most intimate connection 

I have also written short stories and received feedback from my writer's group The Cat's Cry 

here is the shortest of them all 

He

He no1 the most handsome man on the dance floor with curly light brown hair and an unruly beard that softened the lines of his lips. His hips were thin at the waist but when he lifted his arms his shirt road up his muscled torso to reveal a trail of brown hair on a flat belly that emphasized his perfect symmetry – and hinted at more hairy treasures below.

He no2 was also tall but clean shaven and therefore more boyish in looks. His hips were wider and his trousers hung off them, at the back revealing bunched up everyman underwear, at the front forming a pouch over a full-some crutch

He no2 put his right leg forward bent down and extended an L shaped right arm to He no1 while looking straight at his face, He no1 instinctively put his arm out in a matching hook shape - for a moment their sleeves brushed and then He no1 withdrew before there was any traction possible. There would be no hi-jinks and collapsing in a heap of He’s tonight

He no1 loved He no2 but not as much as he was loved.

He no2 drank too much then left suddenly one day for Sydney. He no1 got his girlfriend pregnant and they were married that summer.