Ring Dream

Old and living in a jungle forest.
  My beautiful bride and I have sought—what?  
  Not the leopard’s darting eyes round our hut
That say in the jungle—you’re not the best
Nor, indeed, the keenest or wariest!
  Before we accept its ken, I move—abrupt—
  To the scant door my helplessness must shut—
Then we can return to our lovely nest.

The delicate birds of faith we can be
  Amid branches a painter never touched
In his brush strokes of artistic duty.
We can fly in the dim rainy beauty
  Around dark green leaves we’ve gently retouched
To happily kiss—in love fatally.