Oxalis:
Summer's lemony-herb kiss
That stands silent and sublime
Over earth a-dearth of lime.
This green lady of the trail
Looks sweet and dainty since frail,
Yet knowing her embrace true
I say naught came from morn's dew;
A snake from under-earth night,
Her affection strikes with bite.

If life were Sea and death Land
She would sit, feet in beach sand,
Green trefoil umbrella high,
As if to warn the warm sky,
And golden bonnet on crown
Teasing the Sun on his rounds.
Souring above and below
Her sweat seeps earthward, but slow,
Coarse earth clings, but not from thirst;
Rather they relate vice verse.

As iron is a dead star's bones,
Hers is part innards of stone.
As air licks iron unto rust,
Leached mineral is her lust.
As she feels noble as day,
She looks beyond soil for prey.
Fate grants man a rocky frame;
Before beauty he is tame.
With each little kiss the more,
He swims closer to her Shore.

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