Man’s rippling muscles, his steady eye, his stance and gait and posture
absorb a woman’s eye, and all her heart, despite motherly advice,
just as long hair, a well-turned ankle and soft curves promise adventure
to the man who laughs among his peers that no woman can entice
them to play the fool, to plead or beg – no, they will merely gesture
to communicate their willingness, their desire – but she is ice!

Predominating over the male, women employ a timeless art
using her form’s attractiveness to win man’s unattractive heart.

Earth is a blue-white marbled bead, a lightly silvered pearl
shimmering on its dark side in a mysterious reflective light
from the mottled mirror of a dark-haired and dreamy girl
with a pale round face, her radiance, diffusing sight –
a planetary pierced gem threaded by the sun’s hair-thin curl,
strands of that girl’s golden tresses, trellising the night.

That moongirl’s dark hair backdrops the galaxies.
That sunny one, and the stars – sparkling ecstasies!

On the bright side, presented daily to our turning
toward the sun, warmth extends our reaching
as light extends our vision, and ignites a yearning
for expansion and for growth, for vital teaching
not from exhortation, nor from books, but learning
how to grow blond roots without harsh bleaching.

For we long to take in and absorb entirely the living light
like candlewicks breathing yellow fuel in the giving night.