My wife’s hips

I span my wife’s hips with my hands
when she returns from our garden;
like a farmer contemplating his soil;
its width, depth and richness; surely
when man and wife were thrown
out of Eden, God hid a little of the land
of Paradise in Eve’s heart and body.

 

(Julian O’Dea)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: