Yesterday

I received your letter,

your first and last letter.

Its address,

words,

and letters are

illuminating

like a crystal.

 I was afraid to kiss the letter,

but I kissed it.

I was afraid to smell it,

but I smelled it,

I hugged it,

for life resting in it.

Tens of times, I read what you wrote

until I became addicted to it.

 I kept a copy in my heart,

and planted the original somewhere

hoping someday,

it will rise bearing roses,

telling people,

the story of pure spirit,

in its perfume.

 Published in Calapooya, Volume 19, Oregon, USA, 1997.