Elegy for Leslie, a Thirteen-year Old Girl

Third Place All-Church Poetry Contest
Not being dressed,
I had opened the curtains
Just enough to admit
Part of this late February morning, which,
Like water gushing through a crack
Too small for its force,
Spurted over the green cloth and into the room.
I lay wondering
At the strength
Of one spray of pyracantha
Which shot from behind the curtain
Up and across the opening
To flourish in such a rushing
When the phone rang.
Nothing has changed,
Nothing but the angle of the light,
And that only slightly.
This new branch
Still spreads its small leaves
Like putti wings
To ride the light,
And who would hinder
Its flaming?