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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & Owner
Ray Rasmussen, General Editor

Volume 12, Number 3, September 2018

Patricia Prime
Auckland, New Zealand

Lavender Fields

wind and rain rip
the canvas umbrella
over the table . . .
though a rain-streaked pane
a wild flower bends, sways, bends

in the café
I choose a card for a friend
from the display
break a sprig of lavender
to include in the envelope

finches have deserted
the jacaranda
leaving us to write
words in the silence
of lavender-scented air

sunshine at last
catching the leaves
shining with rain
a thin jet of water spills
from a stone lion's mouth

deciding on lunch
two elderly ladies' gasps
of pleasure—
the scent of dessert bowls
of lavender ice cream

At the window the light rises out of dark clouds; and I see as if for the first time, the piercing blue shoulders of the mountains, a chevron patch of firs below. And there, a horse, head down, is stalking past. You might swear you hear again all the lost conversation we have had; the few years a vanished time. And time again, so little being said when so much is meant. You are waiting for more than this paltry small-talk across a lunch table, a leaf-fall of thought, one of those moments when little is said and always it's meant to mean more. You say, "I know words don't do well; they don't like to dwell in solitude." "And who can blame them?" I ask, thinking that here we are again inside the nutshell of misunderstanding.

Editor's Note: "Lavender Fields" was first published in Atlas Poetica, Issue 5, Spring 2010.



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