Fruits of Cupid

There was a time, not long ago,
when nature took a varied tact.
She acted so abnormally
we hardly knew how to react.

Although the living trees extant
still lost their colored leaves on cue,
an old dead oak began to bud
while moonlight glowed a greenish hue.

We stood upon the hill at night
still arm in arm as starlight reigned.
In violet the night blinked on
as orange stars by light years remained.

Big Dipper dipped a bit of sky
and added to Aurora’s glow.
Each night as we beheld the stars
this tact of variance did grow.

The oak in greenish moon appeared
alive despite his gnarled arms.
As Mother Nature varied so,
she did so with expressive charms.

I held your hand and felt your breath
as overhead Orion peered.
A noise came from the whole of night
as if the constellations cheered.

The shooting stars began to fall
but this time it was not the same.
They wrote as fire in the sky--
within the night they spelled your name.

Another night beneath the stars;
the lunar light began to wane.
Soft hues of green were varying--
those quirks of nature did remain.

(And now with each intake of breath,
  with hearts as one, we share the night.
  I look into your auburn eyes
  and feel deep in me pure delight.)

The varied tact that nature took
was manifest in power plays.
If this, in love, be nature’s right,
more power to her offbeat ways.


40 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
9-14-15