Into the open field

This describes her love
           a place of first permission
no ephemeral dream
           but a property of her mind
and of her body
           a construct of flesh and blood
as a flower is formed
           in the open field
a gesture of invitation
           a hand extended
with words enfolded
           on her lips

The properties of love
           are truth and beauty
pure as the greening sun
           that ripens all life
creating place out of chaos
           and such architectures
that cast no shadow
           she the host to my visitations
I bring roses and orchids
           and daffodils to brighten
the table at which we dine
           and share the secrets
of coherent
           multiplication

This is no game
           no history
but a ring around
           celebrated jointly
with full-throated vows
           no nightingale so melodious
here hours are the dust
           that love drives away
here the flame may flicker
           but never die
here where our minds
           are made up

John Lyons