A woman dances free,
Lust lingering
On her tongue.
Purple skirt whirls
In the breeze from her twirls.
Glass carafe, placed gently on
The cloth-laden table, fills her cup with
A rich plum wine. Lifts it
To her lips, she knows it well, so bright,
So decadent.
Grapevines weave through the trellis
Above dark tresses of flowing hair.
Ivy climbs the marble walls
Which guard the garden and her guests.
Ripe and rotten figs dot the grounds
Beneath her dancing feet.
From the lyre, kithara, and aulos, music
Fills the courtyard air, rejoicing
In the lively revelry of her dance.
With the protection of walls and wine,
She reaches toward the sky.