posted July 19, 2013 05:28 PM            

It's these kinds of days though
both drowsy and sensual
everything this time of year
is luscious and green-
full at its peak
each leaf turned upward
suckling morning rain
before the heat

Perhaps nature
a common ground-
to kindle love
and meet?
with plenitude
and fortitude
she places underneath

We are merely menials
spying her golden-
enlarged heart
I couldn't walk away if I tried
from that initial spark
coupling us gently
in her perfect Godly formed hands

Sipping from her well
living from and for-
her divine plan
human will a mortal digress
as she weaves a sampling vine
into tenderness

When life becomes mediocre fun
she summons a storm
teaching escape-
yet quickly shows,
where formations of love
have imbued

There is no prattling with fate
time is her valuable keeper
her pockets endless and deep

Generous with the real McCoy
the faithful
the fruitful
yet turns blindly away
from the unlistening-
with scattered imagined ploy

Creation her forte
giving birth anew
growing life in the womb
mothering them
as they mother you

Never doubtful
nor sporadic
inattentive or placid

Perplexed with undiscovered meaning
for men-
launching and seeking

Satiety and fortunes abound-
if one but stops
and hears
her dilated
trembling of sounds

Poets hard wired
for her lessons and girth
aesthetically kneeling
feeling her blazing torch
of reverberated worth

posted July 22, 2013 09:01 AM            

and Thanks Mirage, I get the same feeling about you.