Winter Comes Hoarding Memories of June
Winter comes hoarding the memories of June
White flakes upon the window wash
The outer view of life away
The whispy clouds that whispering dash
Across the body of the moon, across the body of the moon
Nothing is left but we inside
Engaged in the politics and poetry
Of our sequestered history.
How tender was your hands upon my cheek
Like a pale pink of tactile hibiscus
Like a morning glory offering the honey I seek
Night gowns that flaked away from between us
The tender conversations
Searching for security beyond passions
Tenuous hold on the purpose of arguments
I love your warm delicious scent
The mingling fragrance of forest trees
The leaf that falls without the breeze
Winter comes hoarding memories of June
The month of my mother's birth
The season that brought her mirth
And made my children to dance
Intoxicated in the light of the moon
For cane juice on tongue
Is a special kiss
A stir of thunder in the loins
A beaded rain of mist
That makes the empty earth to seed again
Was the factor most amiss
You opened the door, but did not offer me the house
More than any other your kindness webbed
And all I want was to be a man again
To leave the frozen edge of pain
And frolic in the flood of rain.
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