When love is the spine of the universe,
   you are its heart, and I its body.
  
I contain you
   in me.

But without you, my own,
   I shall not live nor shall the universe
   know about love,
   for there will not be your words
   that is the blood, slowing through my veins.

The devil has such brittle fingers,
long,
pointed,
calloused,
and sometimes bleeding
from his heated labors
from working the earth
just to savor
a slight taste of paradise
one apple from
God’s great garden
then die
unsatisfied
cause one lite bite
is never enough.

She is rain
in the way
you feel her
all around you,
soaking you with
everything she is,
the feel of it
reaching deep
in your bone.

She is snow,
a collection of
unique snowflakes
coming at you
in a beautiful flurry.

She is the clouds--
when she is around,
it's impossible to
overlook her presence.

She is a hurricane,
her effect on people
widespread and unavoidable;
she is a tornado
in the way she pulls you in,
wrapping you tightly
as she does in her hugs;
she is a tsunami
because she loves
with everything she's got,
a tidal wave crashing down on you.

But mostly
she is a sunny day--
warming you,
shining down on you,
letting you know
everything will be okay.