Image by E.E. Nobbs
Response Poem by Karen Dennison
Shirred in burlap ’til spring, I breathe
in an echo chamber of autumn air,
recycle summer heat, sweat.
I’ve forgotten the hues of sky and sun;
know only light through bars of sisal,
night’s shifting dark.
I chart the last migratory cries of geese,
overwintered birds’ churring wings,
sparrows, finches, chickadees.
I measure the days by the weight
of snow, the first rains, this sudden
stirring in my heart.
Image by Karen Dennison
Response Poem by E.E. Nobbs
In the beginning
our universe unfurled
like a magnolia blossom,
like a hand blender,
began whipping like paddles
of a butter maker: Something congeals
into stars and planets — more
and more … because
at the core is where light gets out
(again) at the back end
of a black hole
(that’s somewhere else).