Monsoon Lovemaking

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You smell it on the breeze

sweet scent of wet piñon and red dust

blowing off an advancing thunderhead.

 

When the towering anvil arrives

it casts bruised shadows,

pelts all with frozen rain

and thunders into your core.

 

You call on the Beloved

hold steady through the storm.

Parched desert softens, convictions evaporate.

 

A bird chirps, and another…

You lift your head to realize

the relentless pounding has stopped.

 

Birthed in its wake, a cool, balmy breeze.

And the scent that teased you before

swirls in your being like a dervish.

Lesley

 

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4 Responses to “Monsoon Lovemaking”

  1. Kelley June 30, 2016 at 10:04 am #

    Awwww, I can smell and feel the rain in this beautiful poem.
    ❤️✨?

    • Lesley July 1, 2016 at 1:12 pm #

      Thank you, Kelley. You definitely know that smell well, both on the inner and outer. Blessings to you, dear soul.

  2. Rudy Anderson June 30, 2016 at 11:42 am #

    “When the towering anvil arrives, it casts bruised shadows…” Poetry at its finest, Lesley. The poem with the juxtaposed title wraps it neatly into the perfect package — a true gift to your readers. I always love the powerful use of in-your-face nature to explain the hidden nuances of our lives, and you do this so well in this poem. You pique the senses with your imagery and use them to vividly insert the passion for the Unseen. It’s easy to see where you live your life through your poetry, both on the outer –red dust piñon forest– and the inner — it’s all just Monsoon Lovemaking. Bien hecho, Lesley.

    • Lesley July 1, 2016 at 1:12 pm #

      Thank you, Rudy, for your brilliant elucidation on this poem. You are a good measure for me about whether or not my poems make sense, and of course you always springboard into yet more spiritual beauty.

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