for Linda

She’s a gift, you see,
rare and precious
as wild grass
or heron in flight;
unpredictable,
beyond imitation,
gemstone perfect.

I swear off disbelief
while she dresses,
the fullness of life
so unexpected,

and practice like a child
on the impossible violin,
amazed and delighted
over and again
by the appearance
of her music.

 

 

13 Responses

  1. Love becomes beauty even as beauty engages love and calls us to life.
    Thank you Don

  2. Don-This poem too is a rare and precious gem in which the words, the music, and its heartbeat deny any attempt to paraphrase it into meanings. It simply touches
    deep within you that which is unsayable.

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