“I held a jewel in my fingers And went to sleep. The day was warm, and winds were prosy; I said: "'T will keep."I woke and chid my honest fingers,—The gem was gone; And now an amethyst remembrance Is all I own.”

“I try to point my finger,/ but the wind keeps// spinning me around”

“I held my fingers out to the new day. I that virgin light -- bold strands of pink and orange breaking over the rim of the horizon -- I saw hope, and I wrapped my fingers around that light and brought it to my heart.”

“I had been wading up to my neck in all this niceness for years. I woke up to it, went to sleep in it. I breathed niceness and slowly it was killing me.”

“He held up his right hand and spread my fingers out in a fan. I held up my left hand and spread my fingers out in a fan and we made our fingers and thumbs touch each other.”

“Sometimes when the wind blows through the leaves, it sounds like your name. It’s like a sigh then. The most beautiful sound I ever heard. A gentle breeze catches in the branches then and I hear it, soft and low, a murmured prayer – Gem-ma, Gem-ma – and then the leaves trail delicate fingers across my cold cheeks.”