Goddess Stirs

The goddess stirs

And words start tumbling

In an easy poetic dance,

Like billowing sheets

Pegged to the line

In the wind

Her twirling skirts

Revealing glimpses

Of heaven’s door,

Did Dylan sing

Knock, knock, knocking,

Like playing poker

With the ladies

The chips but bits

Of clothes,

The sexy one has

Dressed for

Seven winters,

She knows her cards

Has you nearly naked

Shivering, stranded

A holding pattern,

The chalice held

Just out of reach

Stretching tip toes

From the planet

Light years

Life times

Away.

Stephen Nesbitt ©