Evening sun
Birdsong and the garden –
Your voice lingering too.
As the shadows lengthen
The poplars seem taller,
Vapour trails criss-cross.
In the shadows
of sinuous water weed-
silver flashes.
The water’s surface
A mirror
Stained by fleeting reflections -
Even this silence
Brings you to mind.
Beauty
Knows no resistance.
It knows Itself
No less
No more.
Bending
to the force,
I caress
this flower before me.
Soft it
opens shy, and gently draws me in.
Now taste
becomes ardour,
ardour
becomes passion,
and
passion unfolds as vision.
Sight
reveals such a tender landscape,
its
tides, its mountains and valleys.
Verdant,
richly embroidered spaces
beyond
time and place,
all held in
love's generous embrace.
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