Wisdom turns to receive
The heart
which desireth her.
Like fresh pollen in spring air
he spreads a veracious powder,
until gladly, she welcomes him.
Again, she turns,
never in temptation
nor trapped in fear,
She beckons.
Love follows.
They touch anew, thrilled
from beginning to end.
She asks him to remember
when they first met.
"It rained in the desert."
"The light pierced the gloom."
Can we approach the Source,
whether word or wind,
without dancing in unison
with Love and Wisdom?
