I envy the hummingbird and his rose in bloom;
Her morning petals, damp with early dew,
Spreading, swollen with the heat of the morn
As droplets run o’er her stem and thorns
His greatest hunger, her curves imbue
And beckon him, “Come, partake, consume,
Let your tongue linger in nectar’s bliss,
And let me savor your greedy kiss.”
From such temptation, what bird can resist?
Her full round shape, her blush of crimson red,
And such sweet nectar, in petals robed…
Tis no surprise, then, when they are probed
By delicate licks, till they lay widespread
Beneath the subtle but needy twists
Of his tasting mouth, his questing tongue,
Ah, such lust of which songs are sung.
Oh lucky bird, who licks and licks again
Till all her nectar is teased from out her source;
His heart is pounding, his movements are a blur
As he drinks her essence, all that is her,
Over and over, with gentlest force,
Till both their hungers have been obtained:
His for her nectar and dew complete,
And hers for his kisses, soft and sweet.