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All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
Free scrapbook poems permission to use
provided by the author. |
Eventually, we learn that love is as seasonal
as potatoes.
Long days of sunshine are followed by short, lusty nights.
Long nights of easeful meditation are followed by doleful, inconsequential
days.
Even sex is squeezed by moon, sun, and stars into potato pancakes and candy
canes.
Nor do we know what tides pull on our kisses.
Way down deep below the senses is another sort of
love,
As equable as the bottom of the sea.
Yet its currents are more powerful than Nile bullrushes,
More seductive than the fragrance of orange blossoms.
At noon it is not heated by the sun,
Nor is it chilled by the midnight coyote's howl. |