New Mexico Lavender

Fields of New Mexico lavender before a summer storm
seem an old-time place of fragrances and soft heat
indeed, a theatre of colors enough to hasp your senses
of living and mystery. There the legends and lore begin

to fill in the silky night the color of your eyes in the
adobe dark. Lay gently your head to the pillow to blend
the memory of my kiss and the shade of your comment,
that the night is stilling like the drape that captures wind

colorless and cool. Beyond the lavender, the mountain
surrenders to shadows and firelight, and the rattle of
Spanish history and spices, hard silver and hot blood
mix their own ancestries.  Perhaps, too, your heathen

lavenderlust finds you dreaming of Kokopelli; your
deformed and timeless firelight horror to borrow from.
Yes, and the night lavender field moves like a folksong
across your tongue.

Reviews

[emmajoy]

''.. hard silver and hot blood mix their own ancestries.'

The picture this poem creates is delicious: soft passion, warmth - a wonderful sense of togetherness - 'heathen lavenderlust' indeed. It really does exist deep in the heart of dreams.

my original review was badly put, now corrected)

[Thomas A. Morgan]

I'm actually thinking about building out this one a bit, adding more lines. I've had some ideas... Thoughts?

[SHEEMA HUQ]

I like this a lot, I also quite recently wrote about lavender, i just adore the last line..." and the night lavender field moves like a folksong across your tongue", thanks.

[Phantom Heart]

Love your word play!

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

the memory of my kiss and the shade of your comment........Thomas this is beauty painted with such elegant words.