Irish green landscapes glide tangibly by
In whimsical, melancholy shades and tones
Casting deep knowledge
Of old magic
Throughout my heart and life
Winter wind and rain cleanse and expand the creative soul
With a Burren of bare, harsh, minutely diverse flawlessness
Sharing ages and eons
Of billions of
Possibilities unknown
And alongside this exquisite reverie
I seem to feel the eyes and soul
Of a heart and love
So fine and true
As to bond and create
A sensual being
Of mind and body
A transformation
Of us, we two
Extending tactilely, visually, lovingly
Surrounding and holding her close
Touching first the garment
The braided, luxuriant wool
That lay on her skin
Keeping us negligibly apart,
Yet not
Her Irish sweater
A magical sweater
A mother lamb's gift
Enfolding her heart and dreams
Around love
Wrapping passions and life and mind
Into a womanly luxuriant package
Of deeply entwined
Fibers of wool
Seamlessly, without pause
As the kilometers flow by
As the limestone pads
Become reality
And permeate the day,
Along with myst and legend,
She and I
Find ourselves without concern
Touching, exploring, intermingling
Amidst the soft, slick, sensual fibers
Of her magical sweater
From that small, brilliant segment of time
Birds, plants, rocks, wind, sky, and rain
No longer exist beyond us
Environment and our singular forms fuse
Enduring without separation,
Without time
Among those fibers of luscious animal fleece
Our nerves and synapse explode and fire
Cinematizing thoughts, memories, and perceptions
As actuality, solubility, and existence itself
Alter our perception and mutate us
To a new dimension
Rock hewn fields
Her hands
Drops of rain
Our lips
Castles dripping with dew
A deep embrace
Ancient caves of limestone
Pulsing sweat and pleasure
Birds ebbing and coursing in flight
Bodies moving singly in union, in rhythm
Cliffs dizzily cascading vertically to the ocean
Eyes piercing, glazing and locking passionately
The ocean's power explodes against rock with magnificent spray and
foam
Bodies lock and join in creational joy and dynamic flame
And dynamic flame
Quiet
Quiet
Rest
Becalmed,
Tranquil,
Silent
Becalmed
It's evening on the Burren's edge
The sunset rests the sea
While winds and rain and light subside
A lighthouse sits with me
A curved-winged gull paints segments
And arcs from shore to sky
But nature's there and I am here again
A window shades my eyes
It's winter as it should be
The world seems properly in place
But something's missing
Something's gone
And I cannot find its face
And then without the knowing
Or comprehending why
The digits on my left hand
Seek out the reason why
I force my eyes to look there
Where hand now knows the why
The magic of my love is gone
And emptiness abides
Yet where so close
She was with me
A soft, cream sweater lay
A textured present
That I know
I chose for her this day
I gazed at it in wonder
Thoughts churned and filled my head
My life and hers
Felt real to me
But a sweater sits instead
Oh, could this Irish sweater
With magic powers perform
A miracle
Transporting her
Back from ethereal form
The burren knows the answer
The Cliffs of Moher can say
The winds along the coastline
Can guide me on my way
The gulls can trace it in the sky
The rocks can teach the art
But only this fine sweater
Has the power
To unlock her Irish heart
