Under Oak

Under Oak

Passionate on an autumn afternoon,
under the half-lit forest hood
awash in primal air,
your breath on mine stirs blood.

Like the trees' hovering, my limbs
beckon you to shelter, forgotten
of green, but bright in the memory
of earth's fiery bower. Soft in

your eyes, love's wonder pleads
with me; the folds of your dress
dance your hips' singing. Behind you,
the sunlight plays at your hem. The press

of earth's year weighed out in beauty,
there is color everywhere, and kneeling,
and the scent of you, longing in dusk;
we lie coupled beneath, canopy reeling.

What my heart deciphers, I know best:
secrets disrobed in a tremor of sighs
under oak and in the imprint of leaves
on the back of your thighs.


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