Poems of Love and Longing
Light
Every summer-end my mother sent me to the rose garden.
I filled my skirt with rose petals and brought them into the kitchen.
She wanted to make her rose-petal jam. The blooming roses
Gave me their gifts. I caught them in mid-air. I was as patient
As the rose buds, never unfurled them. Sometimes they opened,
Grew beautiful before my eyes. Sometimes they didn't.
When I left home they threw water behind me
For Light and for Safe-Journey. My father wrote me
For many years and started his letters :
Dear Light of My Eyes.
:: Design by Waterman
:: Logo woodcut by Barbara Leventhal-Stern
