Dylan Thomas

Now how did Dylan Thomas get involved. Good morning, I say and he
answers back. The book jacket is practically falling to pieces, but
the pages inside the hard cover, while yellowed, are all intact. I too
like it early in the morning I tell him. But my descriptions cannot
compare  with yours. Perhaps I can learn from you. They say that Dylan
means sea in Welsh. My name, Erika or Erica, heather, is simply that
of a flower, of a flower that grows in rather arid wooded areas or
moorlands.  You, one of the friends of my youth, have nourished me, as
have dozens of other poets and writers. Do you remember who introduced
us? I’ll keep you next to my book of British and American verse, with
Shakespeare’s sonnets and Robert Frost close by. You’ll never be
lonely and can discourse and argue to your heart’s content.

Before you came into my life, Dylan, there were other books, some of
which you would have loved, many way before your time. There were a
few my mother brought from Germany with illustrations for songs,  the
words written in German script so that I needed to transliterate them,
and other books where flowers and plants had taken on human form with
the lovely red peony plucking petals from her voluminous headdress
while infant buds clustered around her skirts.  Come to think of it, I
have a wonderful book on so-called weeds but that falls into another
category.