...like the stirring wants of summer eves that slumber in naked beds that hold our attention from heart to head linger like the soft full lips that speak the neon tension of need that give us light and motion intimacy that beautifies what the earth has lost in smoke and war linger easefully on my chest lover with anthems of lore in a spirited telling that bind us in the seeds they sow that the languid moon might own for the voice I hear this passing night rich with racing wine lingers with its tasting when all the bobs and buds of touch bubble like the rain