Archive
03/24/10
A Spring Romance
Slowly, tenderly, sweet-scentedly, This end of March wends toward me, As if intending to make love to my psyche.
To pretend my hibernal heart isn't starved Would be cruel self-delusion. Indeed, it's spent too much winter shivering,
Craving the ripeness of summer's intimacy, To miss nature's primal signs, Invitations to join her, in conceiving spring.
This high-sixty-degree night, I accept her rife overtures, inhale her breath, Offer her my naked embrace.
03/24/10
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