She infuses atmosphere
in a heady-scented crepe dress.
Her bosom an expanse of cream-white tender
blossoms spilling onto damp clay earth
petals too delicate to sink
stay on the hard surface of things
perfuming the homes of ants,
the breath of gophers.
Birds twirl in and out of her singing mouth,
bees light her nectar-rich candles.
Once our yard, now, a temple
vibrates with the sacred dance of spring.
Bowing through a door of green leaves
I nestle close to her altar,
push my face into enormous flowering cleavage
inhale the wild knowing beauty.