"Fire flutters, and then it rushes,
Iron splatters, rosy blushes."
If it seems I'm posting these earlier each day, I am. The days are getting shorter.
This cup goes to a dear friend whom I've never met, but whose love of poetry I have found inspiring, and to whom I wrote a small poem, when I discovered a small painting at the Metropolitan Museum that looked like her, even though it was painted nearly two thousand years ago.
Katerina lives in Cyprus now, after a number of years studying poetry in England. There she takes photographs, makes prints, and reads poetry with a free spirit.
August is cooler. Winter prepares her frost and snow. But the blush of summer is still here, behind everything like a hot shadow.
