Is A Breast Poem by James McLain

My gaze hovers amazed across your valley
of grace sweet breasts
and in the short of Grey winters late afternoon
in this bed of light,
I/we know why they are delicate
too soft to touch,
so hot with the sun his child like amazement
and how it frees up and out with her laughter
tough and delicate we play around the rings
around our each other the daytime candles low
with its peculiar light and if the snow
begins to fall outside filling the branches
and if the night falls without announcement
there are the pleasures of winters
leafless trees
and sudden, wild and delicate are your fingers
around my eyes.

My love hot on your scent on the cusp of each winter solece.