Joah sits by the fire, legs tucked beneath her on the golden cushion she favors. She tries to concentrate on the book of poems in her lap, but images and scents flood her memory, Grr smiling as he unlaces her mud-spattered boots….
A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness:
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction:
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthralls the crimson stomacher:
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly:
A winning wave (deserving note)
In the tempestuous petticoat:
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility:
Do more bewitch me, than when art
Is too precise in every part.
Robert Herrick
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