Dew

A voice of substance,
to pierce gray cirrus clouds,
a disobedient angel
dismissed by God
for carnal acts,
'twas morning then
and cold on earth.
He sat within the shade
of ancient junipers
and dreamed.
When, silently
a dropp of silver dew
bequeathed an urgent stir
and, like a butterfly,
she came.
It was the welcome nectar
of her hot desire.

by Herbert Nehrlich

Comments (7)

Tough titties, I say. H
Come on Herbert you can get eject a better one out of the can than this. Sid John (Disappointed)
A sensuous picture of nature at work in every sense. I'll take it, Herbsy. G.
disobedient angel, GREAT POEM, WELCOME BACK.................
HN, Good to read you. Hope your world is well. Bill Grace
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