I went to hear Rita Dove, a former US Poet Laureate, read at the UC Berkeley Lunch poems series this week. Here is one of her poems:
Just when hope withers, the visa is granted.
The door opens to a street like in the movies,
clean of people, of cats; except it is your street
you are leaving. A visa has been granted,
“provisionally”-a fretful word.
The windows you have closed behind
you are turning pink, doing what they do
every dawn. Here it’s gray. The door Continue reading “From Berkeley’s Lunch Poems”