Ephemeral Pleasure 

The light of azure eyes
ever fleeting over me-
like trees and flowers
in vernal bloom
flash- in that briefness
of life

If they don’t fade
then fleeting
gifts
are as old
as a northern winters
stint

But no!
The ephemeral spark
passes through itchy scalp
to curled toes,
a touch on Venus
wet mound

The climax of the vernal equinox shouts out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

©  right now, Denise A White    pleasure • nature