Song of Her Love

Her love sings in me like winds spiriting a summer meadow
Full of it to the bursting
And needing no more

A brimming song of her devising
A muted reply of her anthem and lullaby, fandago and carol
As if this whistling might overwhelm distant tenders
And press them into love's swelling service

My cloudburst deluges the soundless vessel
Even of her heart
As though she were but a butterfly
And I a blizzard's infinite embrace