Retrieving the Dawn

Jack Tworkov

Jack Tworkov

The preacher
has nothing new to say
His craft being homiletics
So it is the poet returns again
and then again to the mountain
to the sea & the river in between
All he needs to say hides here
within the tides the crevasses
the faithful stream at flow
in ever-changing light
yet unchanged

We’re listeners
or we’ve nothing to say
Watchers on the ramparts
waiting for shadows to recede
to reiterate the rising of the sun
to redact the waning of the moon
to parse the passage of the time
for all those who sleeping
cannot see day breaking
upon mountains & seas
changing all

“A thing cannot be delivered enough times:
this is the rule of dogs for whom there are no fool’s errands.” ~ Kay Ryan


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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2 Responses to Retrieving the Dawn

  1. masterful use of the language – makes me wish I could have heard you speak your homilies


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