Like a table spread in the desert,
a sheet of sand, shifting,
alive with irridesence,
moving grain against grain,
rubbed smooth by one another;
like a table spread in the desert –
an oasis for a parched mouth,
ripe figs brush the tongue –
My love spreads a table in the desert;
she soothes my skin with fine sand;
he slakes my hunger with the fruit of the grain
and feeds me red wine.
My cup runneth over.