Yes

The warm the thigh and fur of us at
night
all down among the covers while a
chill
of dark clings close about us, and our
sight
turns inward, filled with summer apples,
still,
in nests of leaves on dusty
afternoons

The glance the near of us in rooms
with sun
and paper plates of food, and cups of
wine,
and friends who snuggle down with us,
all one
on piles of pillows, cradled in the
shine
of candle music, pipe smoke and the moon.

So if at breakfast by electric
light,
we eat not tasting, kiss in ritual
flight
and spend some days quite separate and
alone
this makes more cherished learning to
be one.

22 November 1976 English 224