The woman with the flute

is barefoot. She is black

but her features are white

and the colors on her skirt

clash like a patchwork quilt.

She dances on grass.

The notes from her flute

must be the raindrops beyond

my kitchen. My teachers

said rain brings life,

but that is symbol talk,

for the rain drops outside

gather tangibly into grass

blades to soak my shoes,

and the flautist,

though she is flat

and bordered by

symbols of peace,

need represent no more

than the beauty of dance.

© 2017, poem and art, Phillip T. Stephens

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