Summer Offspring
My lover longs for a little lamb,
so she says on a sweltering summer Sunday,
to carry cautiously with cat-like carefulness,
to pamper pompously her perfect puppy.
And as the noon-day sun slowly sets,
her heart hammers hard as a hurried horse,
her body longs to bear a Bambi,
a joey whom joyously jaunts in her pouch.
With the waning light a wren whispers,
of chickadees, of yet to curve cygnets,
of cathartically cute calves, or a kittens whiskers,
All signalling that my lover begets.
So just as the spring signals summer,
My lover signals something coming,
As all these little one's fulfill a profound purpose,
So too, does my lover long for a little lamb.
~L.S. Thomas
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