VERSES BY EDA LOW WALTON Into the Stillness of Your Grief Into the stillness of your grief Tracing in wet gold a leaf Against your window pane. Look up, for all of space is filled With mist of me. The lane Brightens from quiet emptiness Hands Cool hands, long fingered, Like pale lilies drifting across my weary eyes, With petaled water bathing My tired throat free from a million lies, I have known you, cool hands. Strong hands, thick wristed, Like steel wires steadying my awkward soul, To stand erect and firmly whole, I have known you, strong hands. Tense hands burning Like red coals of thin-shingled pine which turn My cluttered leaves of thinking catch and burn |