The Roundel

The Roundel

                               From the top of the staircase
                               the sun shines through
                               an oval stained-glass window,
                               spreading slow, blush-rose
                               over footworn, blue-veined Carrara.
                               Set high in the wall a white star
                               against a blood-red sea
                               and through the red panes,
                               and rippling as though dipped
                               in blood itself,
                               a glimpse of church tower
                               shimmering with the sound
                               of drowning bells:
                               Malta in a roundel.


                                            Margaret Clerici
                                            from "Glass: Glimpses of Malta"
Copyright © | Year Posted 2009

Poem

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November 12, 2009 at 3:48 PM
I am so happy that your excellent poetry was included in my day of enjoyable reading. May you have a wonderful day filled with inspiration. Love, Carol
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