For A Poet Born A Hundred Years Before My Birthday


Dear May,

Reading your poem, I felt your joy touch me.

Wondering about who you were, I felt my own joy breezing toward me.

Wishing to love you well, my joy returned.

Loving me so concretely—your joy completes me.

I find you so well and happy, so much a part of heaven, and you teach me—I’ve only desired to make you happier.

Happy too, I am happier still to feel you enjoying for yourself the smiles you bring to my face.

I like to give you songs, poems, conversation, and a chair tilted toward me from across the room, but you are free to sit anywhere you wish. As for the sky, I’ve sent you many kisses…and this one in closing,



2 responses to “For A Poet Born A Hundred Years Before My Birthday”

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