On senses Winter in the woods of the far north means short daylight hours and long cold nights. I took advantage of one of these nights to play around with some words, images and well, whatever else popped up. In the dark I look for It. finding It, I unfold Its curled length and inspect It with light fingertip touches. smooth soft skin firm head, slightly moist It trembles at my touch. I squeeze hard, feeling It's pulse throb in my hand. The beat quickens in anticipation. sliding my hand down It, I feel a tremor in my legs they go weak, ready to submit. It answers. With a twitch aided by its newly solid state It wants friction and searches wildly frustrated by my slippery fingers It pushes and thrusts upwards wildly stabbing at air. It needs the release of surrounding skin wrapping It in heat and matching It's need to join.