Sun

by Madeleine Busse Streets stained white with salt  Like bleached desert bones  Nakedly reflect cold light,  Bordering grass brown from snow now gone.   On my walk to class, the sun emerges:  The wind still slices, but the sky is blue  Windows once grey glow with midmorning   Stone walls catch

Flood

by Madeleine Roberts When the rocks cried out for weeping  I knelt to the ground and wept.  This sphere is too great for cupped hands   like water at the fountainhead  overflowing, baptism of reflections.  I am quiet multitudes past   the sum of my fears, though the hours waver  in high