Hawks & Love

She remains fixed
in a dream; solid

against darkness and light.

Her fierceness pierces:
the deep golden agate
in her eyes, alight.

Standing there ahead of time,
beckoning: she calls,
“I’m waiting,
lover.
Do not tarry long.”

She had a way about her;
a movement
in her thighs,
a gesture of surprise, 

a  motion always dancing;
her hands,
the way she touched me;
caressed my mind; night thoughts,


a glint in her eyes smile;
her
raven hair,
those coal-black braids, falling down 

bringing hawks laughter, above.

– Steven Craig Hickman ©2014 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited.

 

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