For Deborah Guzzi (A Poet and a True Friend)

My mind like a hand turned up before the eye Palm bare, empty as a desert air Found no words, for every fresh brook was dry And I was left brimmed with care But then I read a love note to man in absence Where the flowers bloom wild And felt a sprout quicken on a dew of evidence So with the drought I reconciled And for your love I scrape the page with my pen And tell my soul to wring a memory And make love flock to you, my sister, friend For every frfiendhsip tells a history.