NASA Image of the Day

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Tempered Nectar

I think of glen and dale, dark and
sweet as claret balm,
Swirled and stained from your lips, and spilled onto mine, like

I can taste the slow oak of
age, pungent as forest sweat,
in the din and mist of spring,
Its languid tongue, grape-touched and tingling,
Meeting mine, softly.

In the dark, the lips that part and join,
hide the quick soft sigh
New nectar.

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