Passion
is that whip-crack of thunder
following
the lightning flash across the sky
no
time to breath
It‘s
the forest fire of red white heat
urged
on by the winds flashing and cracking
no-one
can stop it
It’s
the wild wet waves crashing, smashing
against
the rusty red rocks
shattering
into wild wet pieces
that
re-form to recede at peace
only
to return
It’s
the early snow that softly falls
whispering
to dry autumn leaves
the
perfect flake clings to your skin
to
melt there
Passion
is a billion stars
in
an endless black night
and
the sudden lone howl of a wolf.
© August 29, 2011
About the Author
I was born and raised in England. After graduation from college there, I moved to the U.S. and, having discovered Colorado, never left. I have lived in the Denver-Boulder area since 1965, working for 30 years at IBM. I married, raised four stepchildren, then got divorced after finally, in my forties, accepting myself as a lesbian. I have now been with my wonderful partner Betsy for 25 years.
I was born and raised in England. After graduation from college there, I moved to the U.S. and, having discovered Colorado, never left. I have lived in the Denver-Boulder area since 1965, working for 30 years at IBM. I married, raised four stepchildren, then got divorced after finally, in my forties, accepting myself as a lesbian. I have now been with my wonderful partner Betsy for 25 years.
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