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