28 October 2014

Two Weeks of Years

Seen through the steam of my steeping tea
She seems sylvan -
Flashing Freya in the flame of her hair,
A warrior, a wood nymph, a woman
And she knows not that I’m watching.

Seen through the years of our wedding ring
She is mystery -
Still a sphinx in a coiled repose
Her riddle beguiles and beckons,
Each read page reveals reams unknown.

Seen through the light of the one we worship
She is life -
Manifold meaning and manifest breath
Her contingent consequences uncounted.
Wonderfilled, I woo in the hope of her wink.