Thoughts While Reading 'The Magician's Elephant'

I am in your garden, 

a deep meadow, rich with color, 

strolling. 

Fingertips, as if in water, trace your plantings 

that seem an act of nature, so perfectly have they grown, 

gem after gem tied together by humble yet verdant grasses, 

and here I stoop to closer see, 

‘The dream was too beautiful to doubt.’

These bindings are a vase.