When I ask Rosy Wilson the source of her poetry she, like Plato and Raymond Carver, answers it’s love. Images of the past come alive in her hands and reveal her feelings for people and places. There is an emotional quality in her poems dealing with difficulties in life and death but there is no sense of melancholy, just courage and honesty. The mystery of image and story will dwell with readers. Like Czeslaw Milosz her poetry is what she is.

"In my waking dream

she steps forth, four kisses

blossom on snow-water."