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Keep your face to the sunshine
and shadows will fall behind you. -- Walt Whitman

Candescent by Wendy Howe

(Thinking of  Autumn and Brodsky.)

Leaves of the witch hazel
linger golden on the branch
giving light
                       to the timbered dusk.

A tide of evening shadows
filters in; and the hunter pauses
remembering  his house
                       in a distant hour by the sea.

His woman
sat near the window folding clothes,
her hair illuming the glass
                       without a lamp or moon.

Quietly, the waves rolled in
with rain; and he sat quietly, too,
loving how she lit --

                      a small space
in a cool, high-ceilinged room.

The Linnets Wings