The sun bringing its meadow.
\nThe sky filling its sails.
\nThe minerals of earth,
\nfire and cold.
\nThe hand press of the mountains,
\nand delicate star on your finger.
\nA poem for Amy.
\nWhat shall we say
\nto the poem that is Amy?
\nThe smile of her eyes.
\nHer quick sense of wit
\nand laughter.
\nInward wisdom with the roots
\nof compassion and patience,
\nand when she looks on a perfect rose,
\nI must ask,
\nhow could there be two?
\nOne looking at the other.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The sun bringing its meadow. The sky filling its sails. The minerals of earth, fire and cold. The hand press of the mountains, and delicate…<\/p>\n