For Ali

When first I observed her

The golden silence of her

Like a field of wheat she was

Waving in the wind because

All over her the coat she wore

Reminded me of things I'd seen

Slowly dressing down to skin

The landscape of her breasts I saw

The mountains of her thighs between

Her breathing and her sighs and then;

Her hair as soft as eiderdown

Below her eyes the twinkle there,

The fields of flesh

The greening there

Her rivers floating everywhere

The softness of the dew in her

That trickles slowly into heat

My breathing in the early air

My fingers moist into her touch.

The morning birds drift up and out

A slow dance high

And songs as such

As come between

Her far and near distance.

I am far below her now

Turning in my sleep I see

The colour of her hair behind

A tree still standing where I stood

Observing her; the golden in the quiet of

her