Tryst Poem by Rogerlene Blount

Gentler than windswept rain,
our tender moment comes to pass.
Caressed by the sun’s warmest
rays, we stroll through
the garden.

Timid no longer, we cast off
our silks, and leather, and
ornaments, to lay entwined
upon a bed of wildflowers.

Inhibitions run rampant.
We roll around ‘til our pores
overflow with scents of earth,
dew, and grass.

Before long, the sun sets.
Under a waterfall we bathe,
then dress one another. The
rush of the day still tingles
our skin.

Hand in hand we depart with
vows spoken, and Green Mother’s
invitation to return.


(R.M.Y.B./6-6-1996)