by Jeph Johnson
latent dejection dances behind
the pastoral attractions of womankind
that boldly provoke in me renaissance
while my hope pirouettes without a response.
her pincushion garden planted with barbs
parallels my distinctly dull boulevard,
disenchanted I wander alone and aghast
besieged by a temperament I'll never grasp.
she falls from the foothills with circumstance;
a snowdrift becoming a wild avalanche.
purely surrounded and buried below
the flurry her dominance reigns in her snow.