Here are two of my favorite poems:

On winter nights I turn back the covers and turn out the light.
I slide between icy sheets under two blankets and a quilt.
Soon my bed is warm as a toaster because I carry heat inside me.
My nomad ancestors used to carry lit coals to their new caves for fires.
Me. too. I carry tiny coals in my cells. I am warmed by my own fires.
What is this wonder of my warmth?
It seems a complimentary gift comes with being alive
like a soft robe comes with staying at the Ritz.
When I began this journey from my mother’s womb, her cave
she gave me my own coals.
They give me warmth and comfort me till I go home.

Love seeds us first, of course.
But after we are born and born again
after we have burst our seed sacks, sprouted
pushed through Love knows what muck
and stayed alive, drunk in rain and wind and sun
bloomed, for Love’s sake, in spite of all odds
now we are fecund, now we are full, now we are fertile.
We are beautiful flowers from the Loveroot family.
We walk in a living room and Love blooms.
We are Loveflowers.
We leave Loveseeds wherever we go.
We seed Love.