after Marge Piercy
I awake covered in feathers, with a smile. So this is my work today: to climb into the torn sky like an unmade
bed and shuffle the covers back into place. To wait for the boiling cloudcover to settle itself back into
clarity, like Thich Nhat Hanh’s glass of pulpy apple juice: the story goes, a child refused to drink the murky liquid,
went out to play, returned to find a glass of distilled amber light—delighted, cried,
look, Uncle,the apple juice has meditated,just the way you do!
—No, the smiling monk replied,
I meditate the way it does. [End Page 75]
Lisa Rosinsky lives in a tiny town in the Poconos, where she is a yoga teacher and an editor at Highlights for Children. Her poetry has been published in a variety of journals and publications, including Measure, 32 Poems, Little Patuxent Review, and Iron Horse Literary Review.