Your love. Clear and shocking as the chill mountain air
Catches me, breathless, as if unaware.
Not the raven’s ragged flight
Nor the hare’s bold scavenge
Can trump the joy, unequalled,
Which lodges itself, solid as the mountain, in my breast.
Your love. I drape it around me like new clothes;
I twist and turn to see the fit,
To check for flaws, and finding none,
Enjoy the warmth of its fabric on my flesh.
Your love. It plays the coquette with my heart.
It teases, girlishly,
With unexpected laughter and sudden tenderness.
The twilight stargazing
And tousled waking
Welcoming me home.