Love By John Lars Zwerenz

LOVE The morn is giving birth To the dawn- yet to reign, still budding, undone. Shall you play the earth, And me the sun? - Why not? - Let us go, let us go Where the blue currents run, Now hither, now there, now high, now low, Upon the lot Of the breeze-caressed hill. Let me kiss your sweet flesh of the daffodil, And embrace you in the waking glen. And then, let me love you In the succulent vineyards, In the blooms of the hazy, yawning garden. And there, beneath the greenish hue Of the quickening firmament, Astonishing and bright, Where lovers and bards Succor in the sunlight Nipples of crimson, lips of wine, Beneath the fleecy willows bent, Let our bodies unite In the rapture of the sunshine, Where sure delight Is yours and mine. And the approaching rain Shall find us- twain In spirit and in flesh, Indeed as one- As the gray clouds mesh With the scarlet sun. John Lars Zwerenz