Isabel Chenot
going West
We came to where the grass was left to grow waist high,
and where the trees transition and let go;
and all the grass was old and dry,
and all the leaves were yellow.
But all of this abandoning took flame
from light that like a secret watcher waited
long to meet us. We came,
the watcher stirred. The grass and leaves incinerated.
Light conjures with a fire's acuity
for me on unnamed altars.
There's more of what my soul admits as beauty
on a dry blade than in the drip of stars.
Bio
Isabel has always loved poetry. Some of her efforts, including translations from Spanish, have appeared here and there (including recently, Blue Unicorn, & in the past, Shotglass). A retelling of an old fairy tale ('West of Moonlight, East of Dawn') is due soon from Propertius Press.