On the Threshing Floor

Your home was far from mine;
Its fields of barley and windswept hills
Unlike the valleys I had known, yet
The light in your eyes welcomed me,
A stranger, as I told you that day when
We first met.

The sun kissed your bearded face and
Breezes ruffled your long, dark hair.
Drawn to you, I did not worry that
You would shun me, for being without
Family, money, husband, status.
Your eyes told me I was home.

When I told her that I had met you,
And let the sound of your name
Touch my lips for the first time,
She urged me to go to you, to find you,
At night, in the darkness, on the threshing floor.
Go to him, she said. Go tonight. Go and find him.
Uncover him and lie with him,
On the threshing floor.

I wanted this, and wanted you,
And so much more, to be with you as
Your own, and to have you as my own,
But I know that I was also driven by
My empty pockets, my empty future, so I
Flew through the darkness to the
Threshing floor.
And there I found you.
Lying on the ground, asleep, your face
Softened by hours of work and a bit of drink,
And your eyes were closed, so I could not see
Their light, and the dark lashes lay gently
Against your cheeks, blushed by the sun and winds.

Tiptoeing around the other snoring men I
Came to stand at your feet and
As quietly as I could, lifted your robe at the hem.
Awakening, your eyes could not make out my face
In the darkness, in the still air but I whispered
To you and you knew me.
And you drew me in, and you held me,
And we lay there for hours,
Covered by your robe in the darkness of the
Threshing floor.