Roaring Lust in a Farm

As we toy with the time-worn evening,
I see the friendly gauze of night coming.
It is creamy and simple against,
The tender and refined light of dusk.

Do you want to get the cows in?
Do you want to close the farm in tonight?
Do you want to put your wellies up against the door,
Lodged here, safe for the night?
Do you want to watch the little Rose-bay tails of lambs,
Snuggled up against the ewes?
Do you want to smell the chocolate of slumps,
Brushed off the side of your coat?

I do, I do and I do, you said.
I do and I do and I do.

The crackling fire,
The hot, red cheeks of the hearth,
The smell of moss on your hair,
The milk of your smile.

The snore of the old sheep-dog on the corner slate,
The daub of iron in the grate,
The reverberation of footfalls,
As the people turn in late.

And you, and you and you, I said.
As I tousled your fern,
Splitclickrattled you!
Clapraptapped you!
Slamwhamcrashed you!
TickCuckooTocked you!
Back-fireburst you!
Under the eaves of the ancient farm.