Love Song of The Primitive

Fur-enrobed, nude beneath, some magic vision and power in her heels and jaw, she stands upon a craggy nest and burns me with lightening eyes each night.

Someway the longing grows tragic,
Dark bird wings in dreams without a caw,
Longing grows beyond, the flesh learns
The need to delight.

What is a darkness passing's flight
Ever blooms to height...tonight.
Tongue and tastings, writhes upon
The lovers here twined until dawn
And then dissolve in morning smiling
Already dreaming of...after whiling.