<head>Some Poetry

<head>Some Poetry As Kingfishers Catch Fire (by Gerard Manley Hopkins)

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves - goes itself; myself it speaks and spells;
Crying What I do is me: for that I came.

The Butterfly Queen
(A poem written about me by a friend)

They were crystal
drinking sunlight
from a teardrop
on the mantelpiece.

Some with wings spread,
or folded in mid-air
like painted hands
forever praying.

At dawn
they filled the room
with variations
of blue and green

and the air,
clean and sweet,
lulled the sleeper
from a dream

of an abundant
crystal meadow
drenched in silver
satin streams.

At night
they hid their
stolen warmth
in velvet pockets;

spent silent silk
on misting breath
and breathless wait
for morning.

By J.T. Jan. 15, 1998

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