(Poem by Wendy Howe )
She rents a cottage, arriving
when the harsh wind migrates north
and leaves embers of a breeze
to warm the wisteria growing
along blue shutters and stucco wall.
Here, her long eyelashes paint
intangible ease on the air;
and you can feel how relieved
she becomes settling into this room
so distant from the riots
in her homeland where flames
burn an embassy and pines
pierce the sky like bayonettes.
Tomorrow, she will gather sprigs
of the flowering vine, place them
in a jar and find her perspective
between light and water,
shadow and glass.
To know more about this poem, about Wendy Howe
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