IMAGE & POEM (OCTOBER 2007)


Ripe For A Sonnet

(Poem by Wendy Howe )

she sits on the grass watching
her shadow drape
the lattice work of a pergola.

Her own creativity
can not fill the blank moments
of day or evening.

A week passes slowly
and slips between her hands
like a drooping hemline.

Its extra length
becomes memory
as time hangs and haunts her skin
with the ache of forgotten things.

The Persian cat
needs his fur brushed,

roses lack grooming,

and the dampness around her ankles
begs for warmth.

She craves the Autumn sun
and the heat of glazed chestnuts
branding her tongue
with sweet satisfaction --

enough to quell this longing
for new words and a lover
who left the shutters unlatched

revealing sky
and a man falling away
with the early mist and pale leaves
of morning.
© 2011, Wendy Howe. E-mail.

To know more  about this poem,   about Wendy Howe

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J'ai rendez-vous avec vous
(mfr577)

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