Halos

Halos come in colors: blonde and red,
brunette, coal black, and chestnut...
hairy hues
worn by horse or dog.

It would be news if angels took such form
or could report
on having been thus sported.

Most reviews suggest that pets, best loved,
are left behind.

But what about the halos,
dear to hearts,
that blowing hair and hairdos can impart
to ordinary faces?

If you are caught in wind, what do you do?
Grab hat and pin back hair
or let hair blow
like thistle down or snow?

The parkas sold as surplus that were worn
by soldiers where breath freezes
are trimmed by fur
of wolves
that does not frost.

The point is lost, let’s say, in warm Virginia
where fur is used
to frame the face, much as white lace
is used for dainty curtains.

On the floor,
and looking up past skirts, I’d have to say
that framing fur is welcome
as the space
between the legs is pointed.

Taste borders on the fungal.

Taste relates to heightened pulse and tension
and the sight
of legs spread wide, doors opened,
graced by light
that lights the door to heaven.

We are dross, but shall become ethereal.
So would say
the experts of eternal.
But do they know
what gets a man excited,
starts the glow, and gives a smile
its portent?

Nothing pinned,
but hair that blows like mercy
in the wind.