“Lucile,” Friend, June 1982, 7
Lucile
She was uncommon flashes in grays and blues,
Constant on uncertain mornings
Like dappled brightness through the clouds.
She had dreams we have never seen,
Like anxious sparks in warm, blue shadows
Waiting to grow in the noon of her bright reason.
She reached out with a sinewy strength,
But soft, with a touch to comfort a troubled heart,
Like a thunderstorm washed to a warm evening rain.
Then one last dark night—a wink in time.
Now she has found an everlasting morning
Where her dream sparks begin to glow white hot.
She knew the children and the child in each,
And now can relish the child in herself,
For she has found the kingdom she sought.
Photo by Brian K. Kelly