Sometimes she is a steam train,
All fire and noise, sizzling, powerful
Too hot to touch …
Almost.

And sometimes she is tree
Growing, blossoming, strengthening and seeding,
Increasing to a golden leafed complexity,
Before disrobing once more

And yet she is too a river, deep with secrets,
Wide with acceptances, bubbling and meandering and
flowing gentle round obstacles

Then is love the water that makes all her ways possible?
For then rain cannot disappoint
Tis drought I fear most.