Large Fierce Mammal

Click to enlarge – Image credit 10wallpaper.com

Student and disciple of Nature that I am, it hasn’t escaped my notice that the cycle of the seasons – from the long, slow build up of Spring, through the heat of Summer, into the breathless bounty of Autumn, and then on to the flatline of Winter – bears a striking resemblance to sex; or at least sex done properly.

La Petite Mort

By LFM

Teasing, easing, slow to start,
Soft fleeting touch awakens heart,
Desire’s wanton needs avow,
As fallow field awaits the plough.

Breath quickens now as swellings grow,
Hot blood and lusty nectars flow,
Flushed and pouting, opened wide,
Fragrant petals bliss betide.

Now the bowstring’s drawn to ear,
It quivers taut, release is near,
The edge is reached, the brink is passed!
Sweet promised bliss has come at last!

Oh burst of colour, scent, and song!
Oh sweet release as Summer long!
Hint of offspring, plump and fair,
A primal cry upon the air!

And then no more the air is rent,
Cries fall silent, passions spent.
Urgence now has left the field,
Another beauty now revealed.

‘Tis in this boneless afterglow,
Where what was raised is now laid low,
That passion takes a different guise,
As Autumn’s leaves breathe silent sighs –

And then fall soft o’er passions cooled,
Draw blanket white and crystal jeweled.
To silence every fervent breath,
As Winter brings its little death.