---

Edge of Day

I sometimes like to be about the day
Before the day begins, to be astir
While silently the darkness ebbs away
And soft pastels, then deeper hues appear.
And maybe clouds will touch the early bright,
Enough to mix its colors as they grow,
Like brush-tips dabbling, playing in the light.
I like to see the subtle shadings flow.
All this is prologue. Day will come, God knows,
For dawn is merely herald to the sun.
I cannot know what daylight will disclose
Until it comes, until the night is done.
I like the shining silver edge of dawn,
That hint of day that passes and is gone.

---

Dawn, an Ecstasy

Unbidden, unexampled, radiant, she
Half-pensively unfastened, opened wide
Her shirt, then eased it from her, let it slide
Away, serenely turned to let me see.
Inside the shirt was only her, now free
From fabric's grasp, aglow with muted pride
In pliant loveliness, and satisfied
To captivate my eyes, she gazed at me.
So beautiful, so graceful, so at ease,
This Dawn herself as if to glorify
The sunrise, turned, gave back its rhapsodies
Of golden light, unhurried lifted high
Her arms, her face into the sensing breeze,
And arched her back in greeting to the sky.
Wild Chuckleberries

I thought I heard the cynic in me say,
"That word - you made it up, I must surmise?"
Or "What's a chuckleberry anyway?
There's no such thing on earth, you realize."
I've never squeezed a chuckleberry, no,
Nor thrilled my tongue with its ambrosial smart.
From fruit of the imagination though,
Can be distilled a nectar for the heart.
It's laughter-fruit, a savor for the soul
And good against what ails us, every one.
Whenever we acknowledge just how droll
We really are, we revel in the fun.
Indeed because to live we need to grin,
A chuckleberry's just the vitamin.

---

Glory in the Touch

Hearts of joy share and intensify happiness.
Deep wellsprings of delight rise irresistibly,
Overflow the hearts, flood the plains of living,
Slake for a time the greatest human thirst.

Hearts of pain share and dilute anguish,
Encourage tears that lubricate the soul,
Water the thirsty spirit and let it grow,
Transmute suffering into healing.

Hearts of love unite in the singing sweetness
Of vulnerability shared, accepted, gloried in.
Senses flow together, lifting, rising, giving
The quickening gift, life within love within life.

Hearts of life, sine qua non of life,
Share joy, pain, love and all there is.
Drink deep of life's heady cup and pass it on,
A flood of wonder, beauty. Let it grow.

Oh the paradoxical, whimsical, contrary, thirsty
Hearts need other hearts, always have and will.
Most purely human hearts share their rhythms.

Lifting joy and easing pain,
Raising love to its highest plane,
Up life, up life, up life, up life, up . . .

---

The Comedy of Eros

Peradventure,
Said young Adam to Eve, "We can't win.
Just consider the fix we're in.
Though we used to be sacred,
Now we know we are naked,
And we sin 'cause we're living in skin."

However,
Eve responded, "I found it enlightening,
Though the Boss got so mad it was frightening,
And we're castaways now.
But still, since we know how,
It's okay that we do this delight thing."

Moreover,
Whether sex is immoral or not,
Human history begins with "begot."
There's no use feeling guilt for
What we're patently built for.
It's apparent we do it a lot.

Therefore,
We're persuaded that sex is no crime.
We can go for it any old time.
It's so good for the heart,
And the physical part
Is hilarious, but also sublime.