firenadoI’m a man of the written word
except when it comes to her
I manage just a sketch

a sunset, storm, or subtle mood
are much easier to catch

My feeble words,
like crumpled boxes,
fall futilely at her feet
forever in motion

Like a firenado streaking across
a sweet strawberry lovescape
with no horizons

an ever-changing cloud
of playful pulse and purple joy
that sometimes burns
full and bright

a very big berry
on the verge of bursting

a tasty dancing delight
dripping magic melodies
and mysterious music melting
like candle wax
and swaying hips
rainbow swirls
and lovers lips

and yet a sacred wound lives within
the living, loving whirlwind
Hidden from mere mortal things
from which her secret springs

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