Her cane rests against the table where she sits
brushing blue cold paint
onto the surface of a piece of glass.

The striations in the first coat fade with the second.
When fired and lit she will have winter blue light
with the silver quality of the waterfall in the distant wood.

The seasons are turning; so is the glass in the fire
where paint slowly fuses to the surface
to be held together with calme. The heart will bind them.

We wait for the slow emergence of her vision —
a window much larger than herself —
revealed to us, piece by bright piece.

She’s imagined it completely, sketched out a cartoon
in watercolour, pastel, brush and black ink:
a window to be realized with patient order.

For now, though, the shape of this one piece.
The brush dipped into cold paint, layered and layered again,
each coat deepening into dark indigo, to be blessed with light.

If anyone calls to the studio I’ll tell them to return later,
saying, ‘Just now Miss Hone is deep in thought,
working on the big windows.’

Today’s poem from Grace Wilentz’s new collection, Harmony (Unfinished), published by The Gallery Press