Sunday, December 25, 2016



On this mountain slope,
A cool wind’s caress,
Sweeps across my face,
With a lover’s tenderness.

The distant sun blushes red,
At this strange intimacy,
As it prepares to go to bed,
The end of a daylong spree.

Flutter of tired wings,
Stealthy sounds of retreat:
A shepherd’s call rings,
The bustle of homebound feet.

When the sounds of the day,
Have come to die,
And the nightly music
Is yet to begin,
A  muted stillness exists.

There appears now,
My long awaited lover,
At first peeping, then ascending
Towards her heavenly bower.
She beckons me to her bosom.

Gazing at her radiant face,
Tranquillity reigns,
As I come to rest,
In her soothing soft embrace.

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