(Poem by Wendy Howe )

The tropical air
is wireless,
communication voiced
through sparrow song or wind,
some personal dreaming.

Sun steams the stone
balcony and casts out
two spirits
from the young woman
lounging there.

Her worries
about work and marriage
are banished
to the other side
of the island haunting
a Basalt tomb.

Relaxed, she allows
her arched leg
to frame a blue niche
of sky --

Saint Lucia
breathes a soft amen.
© 2011, Wendy Howe. E-mail.

To know more  about this poem,   about Wendy Howe

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" Belle, comme un rêve de pierre "

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Belle, comme un rÍve de pierre

© 2011,

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