pulcherrimae
blow wind blow
distill the soft poignant rain
beating against the high leaves of summer
and the hint of birdsong at gray dawn
and the sound of the train
rattling off to god knows where
into an elixir of softness
and blow it her way
soothe wind soothe
my soul nerves psyche and sinew
blow away my desire
where desire is wrong
extinguish my flame
and blow my soul like a tiny wisp
of subterrene smoke
away to somewhere where it would be
like unto a rock in the grassy Aryan steppe
centuried
senseless
without feeling
calm wind calm
her thoughts aspirations movements and dreams
make them like unto a flower in the grass
tiny white under a gnarled protective oak
on the very edge of primaeval water
caress her face and ruffle her hair
gently not hard
blow a caress her way
no strand at all
of me or mine
need be contained
in the balm of your breeze
July 27, 2013