Your sunburned fingers that thrum my enthralled heart 
In the dark ember of this desert night
Flatter the harp to soothe the nightmares of a daylight glittering king.

Your brawny, sighing throat that rouses my rapt soul
With its honeyed low moans
Sings canticles to the Mystery of Creation.

Your scent of new lambs, of sand, of sage, of wood, of leather, of blood, of stars,
Incites astonished galaxies of atoms in the stellar nursery of my spirit,
Igniting me with your music!