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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 7, Number 2, June 2013

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Anita Virgil
Forest, Virginia, USA


Gray Hair Silver Hair

When mine began to gray I began to hide its color as I hid my life. Put a shade to it it once was. But as I vented my feelings, quit tinting my hair, I felt an ease gradually come over me: I am what I am. Aging! It is for us all—if we are lucky enough to survive that long.

about the wet grass
under the morning stars
gray cap mushrooms & I

Now, much as I came to admire white hair over salt & pepper, a new gift comes to me. In my mirror a new face joins mine.

a sweet warmth still caught
in the folds of
the gown she removes

image Roman Bath Circular-Abbey England

its light, its depth of years
the wet silence of this place
so like our room
of complete
immersion

I embrace what is happening. So late. But not too late.

the same gleam
old silver spoon
& my hair


Note: “the same gleam” World Haiku Review, December 2012

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