A SEED SOWER’S
DREAM
The hay field willow-wept with ripening seed,
And tossed their purple heads, and brushed upon our
need,
And feathered fingers dance on puffs of kissing wind,
As hand-locked in togetherness, waist high, we sailed
by, love blind.
Beyond the field lies a pond of mirror-still water,
And all around, as patchwork quilts, lie clustered jewels
of flower,
And the pond’s surface reflect the rich green
seam of reed
And all is woven in colourful confusion, as a bed, in
answer to my plea.
And it was under the laticed-leaved, cobwebbed Yew
That I touched you for the first time; thigh-deep in
your blossoming dew.
And it was amongst the bone-dry limbs of one fallen
tree,
As Zeus I melted lip to breast as deeper still my root
sowed seed.
And you, such a pretty face, vented passionate surprise,
And in you, my Venus, I drowned on your tongue and swam
in your eyes,
As swan-arched and carefree, you came with me,
And we hungered on our touch as Eros and the nymphet
Psyche.
And as we lay, so quiet, you murmured the words, ‘my
hero.’
And passion conquered once again as Cupid shot his arrow,
And love-locked in nakedness we watched the sunset flame
the sky,
And all you wore was a halo as the harvest moon rose
high.
And when I mouthed in simple voice about my dreams
and yearning,
The alarm by my bedside heralded the arrival of tomorrow
yawning,
And you flew up to the smiling moon and vanished from
my eye,
For this seed sower’s dream had ended. Too soon
to say goodbye.
© Tim Rees
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