AN ALCHEMY OF LOVE

In a hand-blown

antique glass bottle

I gather dewdrops

from new-mown hay

in the morning sun,

nectar of a bouquet

of passion flowers

in the blaze of noon,

and the spiritual haze

of flowering primrose

in an evening breeze.

I pour the contents

into a speakeasy mixer,

shake it vigorously

until it tastes like

a liqueur of lust,

the l’elisir d’amore.