She warms him in a soft embrace. At once

She warms him in a soft embrace. At once
the trees awake and speak, the purple flowers
arouse the bees. I'm thinking of the names
of leaves and grasses, of the oak leaf's shape

and how I know that I love her. The beautiful
verses seem like a clothing that is worn
by a changing understanding. These infinite
labyrinths of meaning, semantic nonsense

that veils the beloved. I remember the books,
their yellowed pages, the peculiar smell
of her body in the morning. She is softer

than morning light, than the fuzzy wanderer
on the eastern horizon. At once, I am awake
because of the spirit she blows through me.