211010 Sentinel, About Joyce

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Natural Woman

October 15, 2001

Normally I like to rime every line in my poems, but this one just came to me this way, so I suppose this is the way it was meant to be, and I will therefore leave it as it was given.

‘She is a Natural Woman’

She out radiates the sun.
She takes my breath away long before the sunset has a chance.
The clouds in the sky hide the sun’s shame at being less radiant than she.
The sunshine sparkling off the clear waters of a stream, learned to twinkle by copying the sparkle in her eyes.

The gold of the sun is in her hair.
The red of the grape is in her lips.
All of the colors in nature’s palate pale when compared to her complexion.

The softness of the flower petal is there in her skin.
The petal of the rose feels rough compared to her skin.
The smell of fresh earth can’t compare to her perfume.
The freshness of a spring shower coupled with the heat of a roaring winter fire mimic her kiss.

The branches of the tree are misshapen compared to her limbs.
The flowers swaying in the breeze learned their dance watching her movements.
The warmth of the sun on a cold day is second to the warmth of her arms.
The song of a meadowlark pales when compared to her voice.

The joy of seeing the sunrise seems shallow compared with seeing her beside me as I awaken in the morning.
The somber note of sunset is trivial compared with seeing her depart.
She is a Natural Woman and she chose to spend her life with me.
For that I am thankful.

Bill