|
(Poem by Wendy Howe ) A branch kicks high extending the arch of a dancer' s foot to the moon. The shadow's denier is sheer pine flirting with the wind, tempting Degas to paint. Erratic timing streaks my window and I untie one of its long seconds. Impulse dangles, the robe falls into its glittering swirl and I begin dancing --- as my lamplight floods the curtain's pale modesty after eight. To know more about Wendy Howe All Images & Poems (En) 
Free DHTML scripts provided by |
(Drawing by )
|
Home
Continue
Stamps
