Dear Easterine,
Every time I pick up your book of poetry
it reminds me of a little jewel box -
the gleaming gems nestling inside,
some small and fragmentary but all
by a master craftsman.
The iridescent moonstone of your mother's earthleavingness
that echoes mine so painfully,
the diamond hellos to old friends - the wind and rain,
fog and moonlight, and childhood memories..
the glittering amethyst purple rain in April
from the Windhover Collection you once
told me is your favourite book..
the tinkle of goat-bells in the emerald grass,
the lapis lazuli of earthbound clouds
and the little pearl cloud-dog which went away
to live in heaven with Jesus and his decibels.
I will hold this little treasure chest close to my heart,
riffling through it oftentimes till every jewel
feels like a dearly loved friend.
