Night Swing

The air on my skin is its own decadence.
The silkiness of a sultry breeze
feels like swimming through warm waters. 
I sway by my own breathing.
The dark is alive with rustling leaves.
The moonshine dances through the darkness
Inside there are things to be done and people to make happy.
Out here there is only me, hidden by my hammock.
If pressed, I could sleep here.
The only danger being
that I might never leave.