Winter Comes Hoarding Memories of June

Winter comes hoarding the memories of June White flakes upon the window wash The outer view of life away The whispy clouds that whispering dash Across the body of the moon, across the body of the moon Nothing is left but we inside Engaged in the politics and poetry Of our sequestered history. How tender was your hands upon my cheek Like a pale pink of tactile hibiscus Like a morning glory offering the honey I seek Night gowns that flaked away from between us The tender conversations Searching for security beyond passions Tenuous hold on the purpose of arguments I love your warm delicious scent The mingling fragrance of forest trees The leaf that falls without the breeze Winter comes hoarding memories of June The month of my mother's birth The season that brought her mirth And made my children to dance Intoxicated in the light of the moon For cane juice on tongue Is a special kiss A stir of thunder in the loins A beaded rain of mist That makes the empty earth to seed again Was the factor most amiss You opened the door, but did not offer me the house More than any other your kindness webbed And all I want was to be a man again To leave the frozen edge of pain And frolic in the flood of rain.