stars

they are in my sight tonight

moving across an indigo sky

white streaks

swirling above you

as you settle at my side

scented

instead of lavender

my hands smell of lemon thyme and garlic chives

and will soon be perfumed with ginger

the seasonings for dinner

a meal he usually cooks

tonight they will flavor my food

coating my hands and soothing my soul

just a bit

the familiar scents of togetherness

while I eat alone

as he travels the world without me

lavender thoughts

I yearn to be the black cat in the garden below

to roll around in the neighbor’s lavender stalks

his pale purple petals perfuming my dark fur

are snails sexy?

I’ve been aroused by cats purring, dogs howling and even nature programs where the lioness takes down a gazelle.  But snails inching across grass?  I had not thought it possible until I read the latest issue of Muzzle Magazine’s The Sex Issue and read The Snail Scene.  The audios are a nice touch as well.

out the window

out the window

I could see pink petals

pooled after a heavy rain

now grown dry

and circling in the air

like children at play

in the wind

 

like candy

her nipples

tender against my tongue

swelling plump

as I nibble them gentle

like sweet treats in my mouth

I wish to savor all the long day

blue silk

once I wrote of gold threads binding us

today the filaments appear hued as blue

stained with the realities of our complicated lives

under tension

stretched thin

yet so strong

like the silk of that worm

that on occasion reveals a grand butterfly

definitions

when he is near or far

touching me or not

it does not matter anymore

I feel and see (if such is possible)

a pale white light

sheer strands thickening toward the center

darkening to gold

a web

that softly binds my soul

iridescent night or day

shimmering with magic possibility

that is love I think defined

lemon thyme

lemon thyme cascading down

over the rim of the red clay pot

shining bright in the afternoon light

as I approach with sharp scissors

thinking all the while how soon to be divine

the little green citrus-flavored bits

sprinkled with parmesan over my farfalle pasta

in the garden

raindrops

upon the greek oregano

glistening beneath the lamplight

nearby

rosemary and lavender and a cat

his white stockinged feet

ensconced in the damp splendour

of dewy greens