Cinnamon Conundrum

You possess the technos of Ancient Sumerian,
The simplistic efficiency of Paleolithic Hebrew,
The complexity of compound—Neo-Germanic style,
But with a lithe Italian flow.
The quickness in your eyes says, “Swiss,”
But the mysterious twinkle there whispers, “Wales,”
While the echoes spiral out large
As the Carnac Stones.
The Song is Fiddle, tuned down D,
Like the Scottish drone that brings tears to my eyes—
Bonaparte's Retreat...played low
Like bagpipes from a distant hill.
To hear it again... and again…
Is Enigma and Beauty and Love.
And these are the sounds of your one hand clapping.
I shudder to think what thunder
The two would bring,
My Thrill, My Joy, My Heart, My Peace,
My Cinnamon Cardamom Conundrum.

-jenn long