Sunrise
by Mary Oliver
You can
die for it --
an idea,
or the world. People
have done so,
brilliantly,
letting
their small bodies be bound
to the stake,
creating
an unforgettable
fury of light. But
this morning,
climbing the familiar hills
in the familiar
fabric of dawn, I thought
of China ,
and India
and Europe , and I thought
how the sun
blazes
for everyone just
so joyfully
as it rises
under the lashes
of my own eyes, and I thought
I am so many!
What is my name?
What is the name
of the deep breath I would take
over and over
for all of us? Call it
whatever you want, it is
happiness, it is another one
of the ways to enter
fire.
Seventh of January
By Megan Brett
The wise kings have come and gone,
mistletoe and pine are down from the doorway,
and the tree, poor thing, sits outside in the cold,
nature-bare and free of its holiday dress.
The clay creche has been careful wrapped away,
and the angels have come off the mantle.
All the sparkling trappings of Christmas
gone from the house
(but not, says the hopeful Spirit, from our hearts).
33°
By Karen Claussen
lazy
flakes
of
snow
as
big
as
dreams
are
falling
ever
so
slowly,
and
I
jogging
in
the
park
with
my
dog,
am
made
witness
to
the
covenant
that
life,
despite
its
cold
its
chaos
and
its
brevity,
is
still
something
of
a
miracle
