(Poem by Wendy Howe )
Her city teaches young women
how to curve their minds
along back streets of discretion.
From the terrace, she watches evening turn
corners in its pale chemise of moonlight
heading for the river front
where buildings house secrets in stone.
Artists live there,
who hypnotize their models with light
filtering through wine decanters,
paint jars and eyes that catch
the moment's splendor.
She keeps this perspective
and when attending parties,
she listens to the painters talk
then slips into their world with a smile
and features exuding innocence.
Time stretches out
in the exposure of details
and a woman learns Impressionism.
By morning, her garden
will open with lilies
and red bristles of sun
strewn over the lawn
as she begins to paint.
To know more about this poem, about Wendy Howe
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