Poetry by Sister Joan Offenburger, OSB

Waves

In earlier days
Waves and waves of black serge
Whispered and Swished their way
Along their linoleum shore
Rubber-heeled shoes with shiny black toes
Six or eight to each wave
(Depending on other variables)
Wore away floor wax
Hard packed as any wet sand.

Shimmer of outside Kansas glare
From unforgiving August sun,
Layers of heat waves
Horizontal undulating pulsing,
At right angles to the
Erect forward flow inside.
Cannas outside, just as straight,
Signaled the in-between time.

Never again, like any other current,
Will these waves be the same.

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