Flowering

This late in life, this flowering of me,
this spring, quite thrills and embarrasses me,
whence came it, what of it, is it of me
or something else now resident in me?

I can’t help my musing upon the muse,
often lasciviously, she is flesh 
and other, breeze of beyond, lifegiving,
undefinable, undefiable

she consorts in the least of breath, in me
underne…