Orbital the second position

In bating strokes of now decreasing orbits,
He floats into view, from the warming rise.
His fine sinews are hidden by sharp flutters,
That also tenderly caress the bud: elliptical.
The  bud slowly twists  as it begins to tighten,
But the bloom  -prone-  now begins to form
As she lifts  herself from this nights cold  slumber
To then awake and face this rising golden  dawn.
With each considered and complete caress,
he  strokes her, lifting her soft  petal  flesh,
That slowly opens, with  the slightest of sighs
With the  rising  of  limbs:  the bird so cries,
and with  his long troughed kiss, he penetrates
To then receive  with the merest hint  of bliss
And his  just reward:-
The secret gift of nectar deep
That tastes so delicious and so  sweet.

© adh2015