Lynette, at Midnight's Blanket

Lynette in satin slippers disrobes in my garden
an alabaster shrine to the lesser gods of peppers
   and okra
soft pallid earth beneath her feet
wisteria's cold coils groping the moonlight
rose petals crushed in the wet grass
a sleepy beetle reaches for
   his glasses, is not disappointed
ghost ferns whispering gossip on passing spores

morning blooms in midnight's blanket
uncoils, arrive early

even blue star creepers gaze untoward
none of us perverts

Lynette clothed only in shadowy
   lattice patchwork
uncoils a smile
and invites me out.

TA