The fruit of summer's pa**ion
has ripened
Withered on the vine
Fallen to the ground
Awaits
The benediction of the leaf
The white shroud of winter
Alabaster tomb
Icy and sure
Soon to give resurrection to bones
Ivory and worn
Bent to the will of a memory
Cast in richer times
Now in the melting trickles
Ephemeral threads give rise to the bursting flowers
Bees descend in hordes to deflower the virgins of spring
Hot tongues to split the forge
We awake and beg our task
To see the face of god or feel our lover's touch?
Then, we shall set fire to
This summer cauldron
Boil this witches brew;
Love (Yes it is spoken.)
Or shall we flinch and fear the
Consuming flame.
Sparks are faeries that tease
Rise up upon the spirit of the wood
Our courtship of trees is carried on the wings of bu*terflies and bees