Black Eyed Susans

The meadow is awash in Black-Eyed Susans,
Plain dandelions calling a retreat.
Her ripe, full crimson lips smile as she loosens
the brightly colored skirt, then kicks her feet,
releasing each enraptured woven sandal,
its leather soaked by early morning dew,
and free now, and as naked as a scandal,
she laughs and swallows your faint "I love you."
What have you done, mere mortal, to deserve her?
You do not know. The thought fills you with fear.
It seems to you no judge, no sane observer,
would give you two a week, much less a year.
And then she hugs you tight, you grab her hips,
and heaven overwhelms your burning lips.