Janine Canan

Do you remember, Love,
the day the meadows
turned stony, and the valleys
were wet with light,
and the mountains had the color
of those balsamic liqueurs
the monks make.
It was evening and I
could feel my heart expanding
out toward the snow
on golden green peaks
and tears came to my eyes
imagining the land
of my childhood.

 

Janine Canan

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