I smell like love on a hot day.
The bouquet of weak in the knees
wishing to be kissed,
dark of night toss and turn
wind in the pines
the way sand stays warm
long after dusk, and still
the waves of that sultry sea wash in and in,
it’s part tropical,
rimrock above timberline
a long way to down
where ferns grow in dense underbrush,
Hell, it’s Russian Olives come to bloom in May,
crazy moon rise any month,
you know that aroma surely.
It’s a woman on lovefire,
all ember and gleam,
whiff of dark chocolate
waft of jasmine ginger,
on a breeze of cove and cave,
the hidden, the mysterious,
the arcane, other languages,
lost keys, amethysts
Come find me, this scent says,
I am a doorway woman,
watching rain fall
in the green canyon.
Woven So Entire
I’ll never fall out of this loving,
from where to where could I fall?
When held, in canyon, by riverbank,
in blaze of starfire, or inky pitch of night,
what could I be but desert varnish wept onto rockface?
Turned by wind into purely music, desire’s fabric,
homespun for the Beloved, girdle for his waist,
O most beautiful one,
I have nothing to say anymore.
Love has woven me a coat of quiet.
Editor: Hayley Samuelson
Judyth Hill is a poet, teacher, author, living wildly as ever, on our bougainvillea bejeweled ranchito, Simple Choice Farm, just outside San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. She has published 6 poetry collections, innumerable magazine articles, & wrote the hitthe-Bigtime poem: Wage Peace (it’s right here in elephant journal!)and takes writers & foodies all over the world on WildWriting Culinary adventures, www.eat-write-travel.com. Contact her at [email protected]
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