A Luminous Woman - VIII

She has the luminosity of sunrise.
But sometimes sadness
Dims her splendor.
It’s like beholding a superb
Flower bent under
The lashing rain.

Occasionally - like in a firefly -
Her light is on
And then is off.
When it is on there is an irradiation
Of inner joy
A beauty surging from within

Which flows over her features
Like champagne spilling
Over a brimming glass.
Sweet joy pours out of her like fragrance
From a flower - like a sunbeam
Reflection from the sun.

I love her without jealousy.
Without avarice.
I love her like a poet loves words.
Like a painter loves color
And a composer sound.
I love her like the billows

Love the shore
And the eagle the heights.
I love her thus....
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