for J

yours are the first vernal moments

and as the season, so do you

become,

create,

with ease

and so beautifully

your hands, your hands

but more than that

those stars, your eyes

sparkling (light by which we, your tribe, find our way home)

seeing

where veils otherwise hide

the direct and simple path

understanding, even in the early hours

the unadorned essence of the intricate web

even such perfection

has its beginning and its end

she says

knowing just how it is that she will weave the next miracle