Lemon drop notes play across my lips
Spring is here
The grass is velvet green
White gold dances in our eyes as we look towards the sky
We sip sweet tea
And listen to an old radio
Out on the back porch
Staring over the fence
Sugary laughter comes from the fields
The light comes early
And the birds sing like honey
Oh spring
Isnt it sweet

In summertime, our love is intoxicating, like wishbone floating in the breeze.
In wintertime, our love is warm — it gyrates from ***** to toes.

If skies are blue, our love is sensual — two people praying in the sun.
If thunder rolls our love is enlightened, a refuge from the drooling rain.

When spring flowers bloom, our love is bold, like bumblebee petals on the African violet.
When autumn leaves fall, our love is titanium, shining bright like a harvest volcano.

From March Equinox till New Year's Eve our love will continue to ******.
From season to season I love you always...My one, my only, my Love.

When birds do pipe when spring does come,
And the sun's bright and blue the sky,
I think when at my prime I was;
The ladies that with whom I lied,
And, then, I get a sudden pride

As I go
Outside late spring night
The moon is full
The flowers fragrant
The flowers glowing
In the moon light
So
Does my heart chakra.

unless the Presence
reflects the world’s delight,
glad to surprise,
to take revenge on winter
in Sin’s disguise prepared
with monster green
and beauty to surprise
Me, the crocus, when
I choose to rise, and
me, the lark, joined
in every note by any word,
describe a skyfull of
neglected sheep and
of that slimy, frogful pond.
The season’s sound and fury
will not wait to slap
the perfect sting on
Planet Earth.

My love for you came like the rain in spring...

Nothing at all.
Then all at once.

"...behind him--" is't? No.  "..AFTER him." (Ecc 7:14b)




(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCLXII)


Whenas magnolia petals fluttered, dense
In satin white 'non blushing pink, th'exhale
Of April breezes whispring through, I'd hail
The soft chartreuse of Maple leaves for sense,
To notice that romance for all intents
With half an eye while sipping coffee's tale.
And now the ***** branches don't avail
Our souls of colour, coffee's black, and whence?
I listen to the Scriptures, wondring fer
All that oer how those empty boughs I knew
Once clothed in bridal trappings are left poor
Without a trace.  Months pass, the seasons too.
Nor is the coffee strong.  It's fine black.  We're
Stripped down to almost nothing is't? skies blue.

22Jan19b