(Poem by Wendy Howe )

And when the night is new,
I'll be looking at the moon,
but I'll be seeing you
        From the popular World War II song

The farmhouse is cast in stone,
frost-chilled -- and the casement
window a weathered frame

that defines the shape
of a girl looking toward
the wild acreage.

Blond hair is loosely draped
along her head and shoulders
like a curtain swag
while the wind holds
its southerly breath -- until

a swallow
awakens song
in the barn's cupola,

moonlight filters
through a stream igniting
fish scales or polished stones

and she unlatches her heart
listening for the brisk pace
of footsteps -- her soldier
traveling the field

as plants fray
against his boots, brown leafage
splintering into spring
and the ripeness of new
expectations, a longer stay at home.
© 2011, Wendy Howe. E-mail.

To know more  about this poem,   about Wendy Howe

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