i am lured to the beach by the smell of lemon-salt oysters and motor oil. i find him with his knees buried in the slushy sand, sunbathing atop the scraggly rocks, admiring spectacles of scuttling orange-grey crabs in the low tide pools.

his brown skin gleams with sweat; eyelashes matted down with seawater; firm muscles tense with curiosity.

"it's going to rain soon," i warn him.

he looks up to me. "i know," he smiles. "i'm waiting to dance in it."

he takes my hand. we run through town, past streets of white and yellow houses to the green glens. he teaches me how to walk as if i am kissing the earth; how to caress the roots of poppies, purple thistles, and bluebells with my bare heels. our legs leap and twirl through the sea of mist settled over the turnip and potato fields. our thighs are tickled by fluffy wheat feathers as we run past herds of lazy brown cows.

he pulls seashells from his bathing trunks and teaches me their ancient history. we eat peach and vanilla ice cream, complain when the sun-rays made it melt, giggle as we suck each other's fingers clean. we make love in the lighthouse on a red quilt, under flowering trees, in the ocean under the dusty eyes of the crescent moon. when the blue sky breaks and starts pouring, he teaches me how to dance in the rain.