The Nude Maja

When on a night serene with moon 
over the river docile as a lamb
in silence a canoe crosses in the dark
when March arrives there comes the miracle
of late flowering jasmines 
and a chorale of frogs intones its mantra
when the graceful night disobeys
the season to reveal herself entirely 
of summer with mysterious grace
when roses distill their aroma
white or orange or champagne they smell 
like angels or the sex of her, a lover
when summer and autumn rub against each other 
and everything comes to an end and never ending 
each moment captured in the night
cloaked in stars, I seek a place I seek to leave 
late embodiment of this form 
that desires her own queenly surrender