Pink roses festoon the entrance
to the place where I arrive
to meet the Beloved.
Summer has thrown open her doorway
to my confusion and I am lost.

Like an owl crying for her lost lover
You call and something in me stirs.
Answering this whisper that pulls
my soul from it’s slumber,
feeling my wanting,
lost in my longing and
not knowing, I am here.

In the stillness you meet my gaze.
In my question I feel your embrace,
your desire, your love.
But, there is no you
there is no me.

Only this Passion
Only this Presence
That tickles my toes,
thrusts through my core and
erupting in my heart, expands
to answer my question,
to feed my yearning.

Then, tasting the fruit of
summer’s first harvest
I rest.