Eric M. Petit

Explicit, Lovely Earth

 

Come here to me, my love, come closer, deeper, lay here beside me,

In this sweet grass lay your head, beside the waters and sand,

And I will teach you a new song, as ancient as stars,

An old song, new as earth’s first morning, untold.

I will teach you the song of spring with my voice,

I will sing its soft whispers in your ears, and heart,

The unfolding of things, of their opening, warm and new,

Wet with rain and dripping, urging, wanting, seeking.

I will teach you the song of summer with my hands and lips.

I will sing its sweet chorus along the gentle curves of you,

The heat of its touching, the passion of its fervent, pulsing growth.

Of vines clinging and grasping, pulling and searching.

I will sing of ripe fruit, hanging warm in summer’s glow,

Sweet juice running down lips and licked from fingers,

Of hot breezes moaning and sighing through limbs outstretched,

Caressing all that grows, shivering and shaking.

I will sing you the booming song of autumn’s triumph,

I will sing it, our bodies joined together,

Of the ripening of all things waiting and wanting,

The song of the kindled fire’s growing heat,

Of the last desperate thrusts of life’s burgeoning growth,

The explosion of fall’s climax in wild shades of color,

Hot sun pushing sap into roots, buried deep in warm places.

I will sing you the song of winter’s long night.

A song of holding and clinging, of touching and warmth.

A song of warm fires glowing red in the hearth,

Of vivid peace and silence, longing and the remembering of things,

Recalling spring’s wanton promise, summers passionate embrace,

The little pain of autumn’s reckless abandon.

This is the song I would sing you in the sweet grass, my love,

Or in the sands of seas or the rocks of mountains,

Under towering, tall pines, arching maple and bending birch,

In shadows and moonlight, under dancing stars and burning sun,

In forests and fields, swift rivers, cold lakes and foaming crests.

This is the song bursting forth from all the earth,

Explicit, lovely earth, foaming, pounding, beautiful earth

This is the song of our hearts, the song of our bodies joining,

The song of souls, touching, embracing, merging.

This is the song of our deep love, seeking, finding, filling,

A song as old as mountains, a new song, born this very morning.

I will sing you this song of sweet grass and whispers,

Of ripe fruit and warm, gentle caresses.

I will sing you this song of thrusting growth and climax.

This song of holding and clinging, of touching and warmth,

I will sing with voice and hands, lips and hearts,

I will sing the song of souls, our bodies the instruments,

I will sing it to you, my love, every day of ours, I will sing it.

 

Eric M. Petit