When I trod the fields of Eden
Soaking soil 'tween my toes
I forget the cycle of the sun
And that I've shed all clothes
The hungry fingers of the wind
Rub lightly 'cross my face
The freshness of my untanned skin
Shivers as it feels the rain's embrace

I do not see him walking there
His face o'ershadowed by the tree
And I, intriguèd by its fruit
Balk as he falls in step with me

Caught in my shame I make excuse
For drinking up deceit and lies
I pause for breath and seek his glance
A sigh, and tears slip from his eyes

Stunned am I to see his grief
For in my apathy and pride
I am expecting words of grace
But he has turned his face aside

I'm sick to see the pain I've wrought
On man I've named my dearest friend
That I can merely weep and plead
For love once more to make its mend

For ne'er before exists such love
Whose depth can turn the lock of fear
And beckons forth with deep desire
Arise, my Dove, your place is here

-Janelle Kristine, June 5th-