His Sweetness
With shy advance of morning hour,
In wake of canticles of larks and wrens
I sneak in your garden
On tiptoes of sunshine
Guarded by spears of bamboo shoots
And ruffles of maples.
Guided by soft cat’s paw clowd
I follow stepstones a maze,
Greeting constellations of lylies and dahlias
Still yawning in shade,
I whisper, 'Don’t tell.’
My treasure hunt takes me
To patch of sweet strawberries,
Ringed by a chorus of ambrosial mint.
Fingers combing through foliage bashful
I pluck bright red blushes
And kiss their lush ripness.
I’ve plundered your harvest,
I know you’ve waited to sample
The first of the season yourself.
I savor the secret fruit,
Not the least bit repentant
For my early morn thievery.
I’ll save the memory of the subtle flavor
On the tip of my tongue,
And when you come home,
Tired and worn,
I’ll give you a taste
Of your labors of love,
Press my lips to your lips
In a sweet strawberry kiss.
©Olga Gavrilovskiy 2022
To clarify who is who, this is about my husband's garden, and I'm the thief :-P
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