Poetry and Poetics
Busy being reborn, there isn't much time
in any day for sun to turn us.
But I can turn its way, I can see sun
and in that turning everything changes.
On a day like today, dull gray and cold,
I keep a firm grip on my transcendence.
I am surprised by myself—it's still here,
I watch myself, rise, climb Jacob's ladder—
look, I can, after my sweet surrender
to the live trees, standing in the river
beside the dead, those called and taken back
to earth by Hurricane Katrina.
When I know where I've come from, where I'll go,
how can I not know light is everything?
© by Peter Cooley
Table of contents
VPR home page
read with browser
font preferences set at 12 pt. Times New