by Joyce Wilson
The night had raised an early summer storm,
And then the morning sent me fluttering.
Your garden stones, inviting and so warm,
Attracted me, for I was shivering.
You watched me in contortions of distress
And picked me up and held me in your palm;
And then the ardor of your sudden kiss
Enveloped me with passion and alarm.
I might have stayed a month, or even more,
Where waters shimmered, artfully controlled
Between embankment flowers fed with ore.
And then my veins were pumped with liquid gold.
I laughed at you and shouldn’t have, transfixed
By this moment. I was the woman charmed.
But once I found my wings, my pinions flexed.
You stooped to catch your love. I flew transformed.
Copyright © 2003 by Joyce Wilson.