This next poem is masterful, and I daresay hardly anyone will know of it. I hope I'm wrong, though.
Maybe a male poet might be in order, after all the ladies. Especially this poet, who is terribly under-read and under-appreciated. I also picked this poem because of its technical expertise, since we've been doing a lot of free verse in this thread.
Love-Making; April; Middle Age
A fresh west wind from water-colored clouds
Stirs squills and iris shoots across the grass
Now turning fiery green. This storm will pass
In dits and stipples on the windowpane
Where we lie high and dry, and the low sun
Will throw rose rays at our gray heads upon
The back-room bed's white pillows. Venus will
Descend, blue-white, in horizontal airs
Of red, orange, ochre, lemon, apple green,
Cerulean, azure, ultramarine,
Ink, navy, indigo, at last midnight.
Now, though, this clouded pewter afternoon
Blurs in our window and intensifies
The light that dusts your eyes and mine with age.
We turn our thirties over like a page.
— L.E. Sissman