Wind Through the Magnolia

A wind wafts through the magnolia tree,
waxen leaves bump together
like finger cymbals of a gypsy dancer,
viridian hued skirts cascading.

Limbs rap against the window,
tapping in vain for attention.
The night air drifts through the curtains,
scents of pine and mint invade.

Once again, I am in your arms,
lost in the smell of salt water and rose,
the taste of grapes, honey and wheat.
My thighs your valley~my breasts your feast.

We become a sea, parting in foam and rock;
a mountain of red clay and hot embers.
Your embrace the wine that reddens my blood,
your kiss the soul I seek to love.

You read my thoughts and dip your pen
into my inkhorn drawing inspiration
from the vivid world only we create
with dark powers of love and desire.

Nightly, as the wind seduces the magnolia,
we become a book of exotic poetry,
the dew and honey of tangible words;
a deep sea of verse, hope and sweet love.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This is an ode to Pablo Neruda. His poetry to me is like none other. I find that when my soul is uneasy, if I read his poems of love and desire--even the ones of despair and sadness, I am transported to his world of words. Nothing on the earth matters as I read him. He moves me much like a lover would and I embrace the range of emotions I obtain. There are times when I look at the Spanish translations that are in the book as well and I find I am jealous that I can't slip into them, even though the English versions are beside them.

A silly thought came to me yesterday out of the blue...I should learn to speak and read Spanish so that I can touch Neurda on a new level. What a thought! There may be a poem here!