Hello! It's Jack's birthday. I wrote him this sonnet.
love, Gillian
the quiet faith of the migrating goose
or butterfly, rhythmic, full, a calm
beneath passion. I relinquish the reign
of feelings. Sometimes, my trunk is naked,
my branches bare. Yearly, the nests are built,
the young nurtured and fledged. Our wood is still,
and death is only another merging.
With you, I receive my nourishment.
The sun touches me, pulls a fond fragrance
from the moisture that lies snug in my leaves.
It feeds and cleans me, and love hums through me,
vibrating rings of shame, cowardice, sloth.
They crawl forth, drawn out by love and work; sweet relief!
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