Moor (Or, a metaphor. which rhymes.)

I'll take you as my lover, out upon the moor;
We'll dance in the turnings of unbroken skylit grey,
Safely jacketed for now in freedom's glistening allure:
Until flushing high and golden rises fiery midday.

I'll take you as my lover, in the dusk and dawn,
When the earth is in the shadows, purring lost and low,
And everyone is absent, all knowledge foregone
Until the sun sends one above and you below.

I'll take you as my lover, the arms to be my treasure
The wuthering bleakness our bed for thought
Aside I'll toss my thoughts of you, without credence whatsoever
I come to you again when all my soul's eclipsed for naught.

I'll take you as my lover, and never see another
As long as my eyes are shut fast against the wind.
Your flame that never touches me to suffer
Wreathed in mist, darkly our days forever limned.

Now I take you as my lover, out upon the moor
With the stars locked out of sight and mind
And the changeling unblue skies our only door.
And in the summer of our love, unrefined—

I'll flee you yet, my lover, for the hundredth time:
And when you see me fairly crowned on the mountain's height
Forget that what saw me through the winter cold was fine.
Hands are the sure making of both the wrong and right.

Autumn makes you still my lover, you who pose no "why?"
Your shape never falters from its tranquil, wild arts.
And the spring is cold, my lover, between you and I
No sun can draw around us, only show our frosted hearts.

- : -

  [20 January & 11 February 2012]