Orange blossoms nod
beneath the first fat raindrops
from lilac thunderclouds.
Through wide-open windows,
languid trails of sweetness creep
and settle around her,
sprawled beneath a twisted sheet
a tangle of fair hair, a long pale thigh
opalescent in the gathering gloom.
A kind of paralysis, suspended
in the softness of sensations spent
Sweat on the pillow
birdsong seeping in,
the jarring squabbles of magpies
hasten the slow, thick return to being.
