("the green way") Poem by Cynthia Hogue

Street glistens with dim, watery light,
some of the stones dark with dew,
others gray
or rose. You walk this street every day.
The river is high at the moment.
The foot of the road has flooded.
You pass the yellow house
with green shutters, its yard
of Queen Anne's Lace, paint-brush,
the bluebells and bleeding-hearts
strung like pennants, and turn
because you feel warmth from early sun
on your face. Your patent leather shoes
still new for school. Their shine attracts
your gaze. The way you know to walk
on your own is past the cemetery,
the small, unpainted houses
among the trees, green with June.