She's given up on men - it's a green ash across the river she wants to wed. Each October as its mantle blushes crimson with tassels draping epaulets on umpteen shoulders, her knees turn to putty, and a hummingbird heart must carry them home. Love is like that, abundantly handling every handicap; and while left brain raves at the madness, this trans-kingdom infatuation, Montague and Capulet, implores her to reconsider such indiscretion, her dreams simply leapfrog logic for Shangri-La: tree and woman leaning into endless entwine, their breath a feast of sumptuous light.
Kinetic Poetry - Subject to change without warning.