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3
like peony spirits,
beneath the brush of ardent dawn ants
gathering wits of Spring, who bend their gambol heads
open, press into each other’s dewey svelteness, 4
our mouths gather a pink winsome
upon the slow language of tongues
whose sensate god has captured
the wants of flower oils’
awakening glow 5
your aureolas darken, their purple ridges sway
to the silent art my fingertips have learned
plying hues off petals baby tulips paint
within my wanting6
my lips touch a tenderness upon your nipples, tenderly
each, in its own turn, each7
to the sigh shape our mouths discover again
as the curve of our backs
our hips close beneath
shifts syncopation8
your hands guide
my ardent blueberry veins
along clitoral beads,
their birth, new sounds we become 9
you tuck me, flamboyantly flows my surrender
your tongue glides along my lips
as the throat I so love purrs10
how a morning lark, distant, aloft
blooms straight into a colorful litheness of gardens
the way a soul giving birth
to
itself11
trembles
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Adding your comment:
You are magnificent, my Beloved. 
♥ 
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