Harvest Fires

her womb’s seasons

haunt the heart

in leafless chimes

 

she feels the emerald blades

still rise inside

like a rain’s freshness,

though her landscape

is now painted

with the hues autumn

 

it doesn’t cease

those harvest fires

once burning as an inferno,

before ashen meadows

claim her fertility

somehow she release

the goddess

 

and dance again

a lover’s vernal thunder