High in the chaffy, taffy-colored haze 
of the hayloft, up under the starry 
nail-hole twinkle of the old tin roof, 
there in a nest of straw and baling twine 
I have hidden my valentine for you: 
a white heart woven of snowy feathers 
in which wide eyes of welcome open 
to you as you climb the rickety ladder 
into my love. Behind those eyes lies 
a boudoir of intimate darkness, darling, 
the silks of oblivion. And set like a jewel 
dead center in the heart is a golden hook 
the size of a finger ring, to hold you 
always, plumpest sweetheart mouse of mine.