She was a botanist
so her garden was something to behold.
She tended the flowers and plants
she was weary of vegetables

With loving care
with honesty and fidelity
she grew flowers and plants.
The colors and smells
in that garden
were first and foremost remarkable.

She preferred to make love in her garden.
Her lovers
intoxicated by beauty
and ubiquitous aromas
loved loving her in the garden
they tended to her with tenderness
as she tended her tender flowers.
The air abounded
with the lack of conflict
the luster of love
a perfect environment
for flowers to bloom
for plants to grow

I know of this garden
and of the botanist therein
for I made an appearance
untimely for sure
one late afternoon
and caught the botanist
naked and free
dancing in a light breeze.

I offered myself
in some far-fetched proposal
without credentials.
I stood without pretense
but hardly unaware
of my proposal's intention

The botanist knew some things
I understood that soon enough
when she asked me to sit
on a wooden bench
adjacent to some blooming peonies

I sat as asked
and she sat
very close to me.
I offered my hand
which she took
and held close.

She was afterall
a pure mystery
naked and delightful
and curious of me
as I sat comfortably
wanting more
but wanting quietly.

The botanist accepted my proposal.
She gave me odor and color
bold and brash
and planted me in her garden
as I had asked.