Finding a New Haven

As she mounts a wagon with few treasures, my middle-aged aunt begins to paint sketches of fields running like her summer skirt, of lush grasses traipsing with autumnal breezes. Still elegant under a dying moon, her fingers reach out to a hum of mist, owning new dreams... her own solitary dreams for now. alone and quiet like chilled dew, she lies quiet--- watching new buds sprout So I tug at her robe feeling the icy scent of a woman’s nostalgia, gently weaving through this moistened fabric. She throttles on with refreshed grace and vigor as we pass the city bridge, drowned by a luster of stars. April greets new hours ushering bright of springtime— while old flakes depart -------------- EARLY JULY PREMIERE CONTEST Sponsor: Brian Strand