Magazine article The Wilson Quarterly

To Be Continued

Magazine article The Wilson Quarterly

To Be Continued

Article excerpt

Whoever we are when we finish the novel Won't remember the details that are fresh now, And if they can guess how much they've lost They'll never write their review And the characters will drift off unjudged.

Best to judge them now while beads of sweat Are strung on Helen's forehead, after her ride Around the lake. At thirty-four she's returned To her father's farm - her brother's now - A widow, determined to live in the past No longer than she must, with no self-pity, No remorse. It would be an act of ingratitude To be sad by the lake of her childhood Here in Chapter One, boating with nieces and nephews, Docking on the island for a moonlight swim.

If we can trust her as we know we should, She'll do us proud in every chapter to come. We won't be outdone if our passion is compared To the passion of the farmer across the road Who's seen her only once, and from far off, And has lost his heart already, and made a vow. …

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