The Four Seasons
wastrel Winter ,
the garbage winds of March
fill flower beds with trash:
beads from Diwali,
Christmas trees,
Hanukah wrap.
buoyant freedom,
we are the waifs of Spring,
and our vernal hunger
when we awake and rise
is hunger most
deeply habit.
floating Summer,
stolen swimmers’ kisses;
midnight's forbidden trysts
under cloak of stars;
childhood dew,
eyes and pearls.
Autumn’s arcade,
when we made love beneath
diving board and dock:
skinny-dipping moon!
nonage love,
gasping breath.
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2 comments:
Je découvre avec plaisir votre blog... Je m'autoriserai une prochaine visite...
Merci pour ces jolis mots.
Gros bisous
Merci!
Enfin! Un commentaire....
et pas seulement un commentaire, mais des bisous aussi !
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