The curve of her young body is an instrument

The curve of her young body is an instrument
that tells the time, her arm and breast measure
the hours, her neck and lips give the argument

for calendars. The Moon cycles with pleasure
above the sphere, the luminaries orient
themselves in ellipses. Leaves fall with leisure

to the ground and the light extends its metaphor
above the pastures, over the bayou's currents
and into the lake. The clouds move without author

in different colors, the Sunset quietly paints
a spectacle of heaven. How my love anchors
my heart to matter! How her face is lucent

in the Moonlight! My improvisation is spent
on making music of her pleasing instrument.