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.