After a long dark night of grief
get out of bed. Step over the sleeping
dogs. Open all the shutters. Go outside
and look at the sky. Watch the fiery fried egg
rise from the horizon under gray puffball
clouds that suddenly turn pink, like an ocean
of cotton candy and you remember the young
woman at Tuesday’s Buddhist 12-Step meeting
who said something about a pink-cloud moment,
and you realize that this is a pink-cloud moment
as a ring of birds starts circling and circling
above the palm trees as if they are dancing.
*
Susan Vespoli is a poet from Phoenix, AZ. Her poems have appeared in ONE ART, Rattle, Anti-Heroin Chic, Gyroscope Review, and others. She is the author of Blame It on the Serpent (Finishing Line Press), Cactus As Bad Boy (Kelsay Books), and One of Them Was Mine (Kelsay Books). susanvespoli.com
Love this poem!
I love this poem and am amazed at it the way it travels through a list ordinariness to a moment of epiphany. We move forward, back, forward again and then open to awe. So beautiful. Kathy
A great education and reminder of how to come out from under the weight of grief. Beautiful work.
gorgeous. absolutely gorgeous, Susan.
Completely fabulous. Thanks for publishing this lovely poem!
From sleeping dogs to dancing birds, a meaningful transition.
Thank you, poet and publisher.