YOUR YELLOW SARONG
Beneath your yellow sarong, I saw the outline
of your body. The sunlight was brazenly pouring
through with its own glory - only adding to yours.
Translucence is a momentary thing, like the glories
of which mad monks sing.
-
Outside, on the lawn, some birds were pecking
joyously at the seeds you'd just left them.
Up and down, darting to and fro, these birds,
these 'things' which Blake said were just
momentary worlds of delight, reveled
in something of that same natural glory.
Beneath your yellow sarong, I saw the outline
of your body. The sunlight was brazenly pouring
through with its own glory - only adding to yours.
Translucence is a momentary thing, like the glories
of which mad monks sing.
-
Outside, on the lawn, some birds were pecking
joyously at the seeds you'd just left them.
Up and down, darting to and fro, these birds,
these 'things' which Blake said were just
momentary worlds of delight, reveled
in something of that same natural glory.
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