SWEET SONG OF EROS
As I kiss
your twin mourning doves
your cluster of grapes,
my hands caress
your standing sheaves of wheat
your gushing river,
and your pomegranates
drop from the tree . . .
I taste your honeyed nectar,
and we are singing
in a field of Paradise.
Your body teaches me how to be tender.
Your body teaches me how to be patient.
Your body teaches me how to be grateful.
Your body teaches me the art of making love.
But it is your nakedness that teaches me how to love.
TO KISS OR NOT TO KISS
How are such things decided?
By a word that’s tenderly confided?
By the sweet fragrance of the hair?
Or by the look that seems to dare?
Though your thought be ever serious,
The reasons are indeed mysterious,
And those lips may yours elude,
Even though you both be nude.