The Birth of Opals
Upon my very word
I did once marvel
At the seeming birth
of opals
Along the subtle curve of
Her naked back and thigh
And how within their
Fiery glow
They did so very much resemble
The cascading wave of
Salmon flank
Across my semi precious
Somerset sky
A county blessed with
What once was and what
Might once have been
Upon my very word
I came to know those skies
So well indeed
Or did I merely wish or
dream it so
For my body and my soul
All those blues greens
Reds and golds
As delicate as fern fronds
And fragile as a wren’s egg
Just as full
Yet without familial ties
It was then she
Sighed and smiled and
Brushed those tiny beads
Of sweat aside
As iridescent as
The wings of a
Hover fly and transient
She was still there
Till she was all but gone
And that is the nature of
This one word love
I have learnt to frown upon