(To Georgia Perry)
She is my friend: The music of the words
Has power to release the silver birds
Of song within my throat. My thoughts kneel down
Before the poetry of One whose crown
Of peace she wears. My risen dreams annul
The pirate years. Again the miracle
Within my heart ... And my grief's barren sod
Blossoms with beauty of the grace of God.
She is my friend, for when I walk with her
She leads me to the Healing Gardener:
Gone are pain's tethers ... I hear April pass
Singing His love in rain upon the grass.
She knows my need for April nor forgets
To weave a lei of her word-violets.
My friend who, when December snows are falling,
With new green words brings me a robin calling!
