Contributor: Sandra Shaw Homer

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It happens every afternoon:
The lake a sheet of green glass
Under piled-high crystal cumulus,
Blindingly aglow with inner fire.
Not a breath stirs the silence of the windmills.
Some instant spark – a thunderous roar? –
Tells the restless clouds
To let go their heavy weight
And shoot fat watery runnels
From the tiles of the roof,
Swell small rivers to fill the lake
And send the saturated earth
Tumbling onto the right-of-way.
Right? Whose right? Certainly not ours,
Hers.


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A Costa Rican citizen, Shaw Homer has written for the local press, as well as published fiction, nonfiction and poetry in on-line and print journals. Her travel memoir, Letters from the Pacific, was well reviewed by Kirkus and PW.