for Jascha and Laura Beth
I invite you, now, to fill the bushel basket of your mind with acorns, overflowing.
Or, scoop up in your palms a fine mound of poppy seeds.
See how the sun glint sparkles in these myriad grains of life.
tiny seeds carried forth from generations past.
Within these seeds are locked the blueprints of eternity,
designs of intricate grace
hues of the amber hearth,
the turquoise isle,
the violet star,
the corn flower,
the apple rose.
These seeds have
not been cast to barren ground,
It's a fertile loam, rich and warm,
anointed by a gentle rain,
suffused with fresh
clean breath of oak.
Here, the coiled helix sprouts,
leaping downward, extending filaments
lifting high its vital spine,
unwrapping hard shell,
unfolding green wings to drink the sky.
Aligning herself between Earth and Heaven,
she reaches higher, stretches sinews,
radiates a flourish of branch, twig, leaf.
Beside her boughs, there grows another.
sprung from seed of distant lands.
Tentatively, he spreads his roots,
extends his copper arms,
uncurls his many fingers
to make music in the wind.
Stronger roots venture further, now,
investigate subterranean springs,
calcium chambers,
phosphor veins,
miccorhizal pathways.
Tapping in to a hidden aquifer,
their tender roots make first contact.
Then, they mingle, intertwine
weave a tapestry of partnership
within the pliant earth.
Enriched by sun, by sky, by stars, by dew,
by frost, by bone, by loam,
by stone and mould,
by summer rains,
by springtime seep of winter snow,
by song of bird in twilight's glow,
this young couplet of old souls
grows hale
and supple
and blessed by Jove.
Leaves bask, and split the sun to shade.
Then dry and rust.
Then lay worn threads down upon the land
to rest a winter's night.
Branches ch-ch-ch-chatter
in an ice-hewn February dawn.
But, look closely:
the slumber rustles,
sap begins to climb
from root to limb to swelling bud.
Longer light and warmth of Spring
now spur these buds to burst.
The many-petal'd flurry pink
perfumes the land,
invites the many daughters of the queen
to drink deep draught of nectar,
partake of tiny pollen cup cake feast.
By and by, the blossoms curl,
the wind hooks tug them loose,
to scatter, swirl,
pile up in great soft drifts.
Throughout the long, strong season of the sun,
our cherished pair
creates a magic alchemy.
From the many-folded fragrance of their love,
they offer fruit
that's crisp and bright,
tart and sweet,
bursting with the goodness of their happy hearts.
To you two radiant children of the garden,
I offer this toast:
May the golden sun and emerald rains
enrich your every season!
May your tongues be blessed with words
to talk through every consternation!
May your eyes be filled
with every brilliant palette of the rainbow!
May your hands hold tight,
may your feet stand strong upon the Earth!
May the flags of joy
always sparkle in your heaven!
May your hearts of hearts
hold true to all that's wise and wondrous!
May your love grow ever deeper, stronger,
sweeter, fonder!
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