These rainy breezes which come like
Squall-driven seabirds, bearing a scent of hyacinth.
The eye bending towards the cold mainland
The heave of hill, the grassy banks
Rain-soaked, softened to blur,
Making the landscape look younger
In the rain-filled lens of your eye.
You step quietly, gingerly, like
One bearing lilies, pomegranates
Underfoot, the apple tree
Bending to your music;
Like it’s a visible act,
Like you’re a bride who whispers
‘Ah, Paradise’, playing for time,
A button horse stitched to your bodice
Rearing up, mane like a crested wave.
All eyes obscure, obscure eyes.
Our lord a spectacled lord,
Peering and squinnying,
Spring in his hand, sunlight
Spilling through his fingers, violets
In his hair.