what pines!
what lady slippers!
when I take tomorrow's walk
 

on the altar
with the host and wine
hand sanitizer
 

Bidden Agenda

Come to bed, your cornflower blue eyes said. Let warm zephyrs raise the small hairs of your body. Let consequence be hanged in that secluded spinney and not discovered until many years from now. Leave your straight and narrow line into the future. Follow this country lane on its meanders into mystery. Lie with me in a summer meadow of infidelity.

giving voice
to the gentle breeze
bees in blossom