all of these are gifts: petal rose
quartz from my closest loves, an angel
encased with a daughter’s hug, kokopelli
welcoming this luscious spring, a healing
stone for the heart in green tourmaline,
the quartz crystal that spoke to me in a new
age store, a friend’s petrified wood during her
travels galore, and a smoky quartz cluster
from faraway–for a great-grandfather’s shelf,
resting upon my grandmother’s tray.
*The closest I will come to rhyming poetry.
I’m writing a poem every day in April as part of NaPoWriMo’s celebration of National Poetry Month. Won’t you join me in poetry?