The Sweetest Song

He teases thrice,

touches mind and body

then awakens soul

Holy trinity found

in the tender grasses,

in the pillowy fragrances

of waking fields of lily

and rose--the season of growth

moves us all

He walks in clouds

of frankincense and myrrh,

lifts and lays me gently

on foreign chariots draped with violet

and adorned with precious metals

coaxed from pungent earth

Gentle suckling in the sun,

primal in the moonlight,

He whispers in my ear,

coarse hair dragging

across my heating lobes,

ruminating on my scent

of pomegranate

and spice

I breathe into His raven locks,

watch our mismatched bellies

press and flex, and He watches me,

and I Him, our eyes as gentle

as the cooing of hopeful doves

Thy love, better than wine

Dribbling juices

of sacred oak and bone,

His hand slips kindly

beneath my head,

His calloused palm

atop my tensing breast

He comes to me, in love,

in pain, in joy, in strife,

nestled in petal and vine

Beneath the apple tree,

He seals me, bare-breasted

onto His worldly heart