Oyster Pearls

rolling around in the soft oyster of my mouth
this pearl
of word
and
the reed-ready air
poised
waiting
to be pushed
poignantly from exaltations inside
where temperate winds roam stormy isles
and
passion
half-scared
resides
in the blue-green laughter
of sea-and-sky touch:
zephyrs of dubious joys
discoveries
all
all coming out in whorls
of fingertips
which breeze over and give voice
to
word after word after word:
tumbling pearls from the soft oysters
of our mouths.