Relearning the Seasons

In the last year, we relearned the seasons.
Winter now ushers in the spring with my kisses
blooming across your breasts like butterflies
dancing over wildflowers.

I love the clear whispers from your trembling lips.
Your language and tone are are familiar to me,
passed down by the gentle spirits who
conceived you over two decades ago and
brought you as a gift to me last spring. In your voice
I hear your mother and remember her light.

Your lips are wet and shining, pursed as if in deep thought.
Are they seeking home? I think of your mother’s breasts
when you find my shaft.

God, the heat of you!
The circle of desires that began in our parents
now finds completion in us. Let's lie in stillness to
appreciate the passing of time until the winds of fall
stir in our flesh.

When the pulsing announces my coming, your lips hold.
I marvel that anything as beautiful as you might, like your mother,
fall away with the cold winds of winter.