Poetry
THE SAGE
I was looking for you in the garden.
Above pink poppies and white cleome
I saw scarlet blossoms, a sweet cluster
I could not name without you near. Then
A strange voice came ...
The Portrait
Her face hung white and empty as a spoon.
She had resisted every breeze and flutter
That shuffled dead air through the shutter,
Propped up all morning in a pose.
To flush the color ...
