Arise

a new poem

Arise 
		for LK

It isn’t pointless
but the point 
remains 
beyond us:
the crow 
on top of
a telephone pole
at daybreak, 
screaming 
into a crease 
between 
blue-black clouds,
as the sun slowly 
overtakes 
dark green hills
rolling up from 
the other side
of the river.
It isn’t pointless.
How awe
compels us
to see 
the unseen
as seen.
All our senses 
swarmed
by green 
contortions
of waking earth. 
We are here 
at the brink 
of a sudden,
ecstatic 
coherence: 
one sound 
pronouncing 
each name 
of each thing 
erupting from 
the ripening field.