Paper Cranes by Ann Howells
Sixty years Nana's clipped nails
pressed precise folds,
aligned flightless wings –
onion skin, parchment, vellum –
enclosed wishes for healing.
Fingers grew stilted as cranes she folded.
Veins appeared, blue shadows
on voile, yet hands never idled.
Myriad cranes nest my Christmas tree,
perch amid velvet bows,
gilded pomegranates.
Ann Howells of Dallas, Texas, edited Illya's Honey both online and in print for eighteen years. Her most recent books are: So Long As We Speak Their Names (Kelsay Books, 2019). Two chapbooks: Black Crow in Flight and Softly Beating Wings were published through contests (Main Street Rag and Poetry Society of Texas, respectively).