Your eyes gazing at me in natural
light, each iris flecked by afternoon sun:
this must be what astronauts see, spiral
of propulsion lifting them to heaven;
what ancient Roman poets saw, glowing
Mediterranean stunning senses
so they viewed it even on land, bowing
to your color in leaves, how rain rinses
entire fields to this very day. Love, you
smile in disbelief, feeling I distort
your essence. It’s no accident this hue
centers in your sacred face. No retort
can foil glowing truth I perceive: bright spheres
like seas, reflecting passion in their tears.
Roger Armbrust
March 9, 2010
