On a Whim and a Recommendation

A friend of mine complained to me the other day that he couldn't keep up with my new poetry now that he lived so far away, so for a few days I will experiment by posting some of my work on here. We'll see how it goes. Wander on.

Sonnet I

Your neck, still and warm

with sleep, carries the musky

scent of salt sprayed oaks

across the pillow to me.

In sleep, your skin--that

earthen brown--glows like fever,

like rain glistening on grass

awaiting the next July storm.

I would nestle into you,

fold together our bird-wing arms,

kiss your eyelids one and one

but your perfect sleep is

already belonging to the dreams

in which I cannot lay.