pipe tobaccoHis voice, slow, lovely, softly washes overmy soul, like waves.Smoke, smelling of warm earth and sunlight,wreathes my head.His thoughts wrap round my own.He holds my small bodyagainst his, safe,the angry wind outsideno match for the warm kettle on our hearth.
Brightness, depth, colour, skyBrightness, depth, colour, sky--I give my life to themupon the pyre of time.The fire burns, I smile gleefully,like a child who knows the ways of the trees,and of the moon, and of the summer stars,and knows that all is well.I relish my own burning and the flame.
turningLeaves fall like golden flame on to the road,the sky stands still and blue.The earth bears fruit, bright berries, purple, red.The sun weighs heavilyin the autumn air-- fragrant, ripe, and warm,like an apple ready to be picked.There is no death here, only gentle turning.A blush steals over treesas they drop their many children to the earth.Soon they will fall asleep,exhausted by their own fecundity,and winter's white blanket will cover them.
The first time that I kissedThe first time that I kissed a man my lipsWere like blushing rosebud in the spring,Quiet and unopened, but he pressedHis lips to mine and so made them his own.I gave him all my heart and trusted all,With child's faith, sweet and wild and free.Quite willingly I thought to defy allThat I might be with him and he with me.He loved me fiercely and would have me hisIn heart and soul, in body and in name.Too heedless were we in that first sweet kiss,Yet in my memory it's dear the same. Spring's flower bloomed before the last cold frost, Our love was sweet a day, but then was lost.