Sonnet 25 'My Love Is Like the Sky, a Wind of Dreams'
My Love is like the Sky, a wind of dreams,
Like trailing Heav’n her garment covers me,
Stars line her cloak, her sword’s not what it seems,
It’s limned with lightning, she pulls it from a tree!
Her glowing hands and face show golden moons
Penumbra them about in pregnant mist,
They streak across the Night, bestowing boons,
Her lips, always, and never, to be kissed.
Beneath her softshod feet, angels press up,
And keep her from the burden of the earth,
From Paraclete Dove, comes the proffered cup,
Engilded, and enjeweled with gems of mirth
As bright as sun that shines on fields of snow,
From thence, drinks, smiles, and makes the darkness go.
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