Perfect Storm

from the forest, deep, she came like a jaguar, quietly prowling drawn there by my late-day flame typhoon in the distance howling black hair with a coal-blue sheen eyes like ink and faultless gold linen sun dress, white and clean tawdry tan, with charms, untold white-cap sea foam licked the sun then softly tasted sweet, its bright slo-melting on that briny tongue and sav'ring still, the fading light there beside the aqua ocean palm fronds laid in proper form with sublime and torrid motion we let loose our perfect storm high above, the Perseids streaming wept the sky, with tears of fire wishes granted - we, so dreaming meant for fools to thus inspire flightless angel birthed in darkness wrapped me in her pinions, warm sacred embers, cold and sparkless burning for that summer storm ... lost in her - my perfect storm.