Wednesday, December 18, 2019

Those Hours
by Joyce Sutphen
There were moments, hours even,
when it was clear what I
was meant to do, as if
a landscape had revealed itself
in the morning light.
I could see the road
plainly now, imagining myself
walking towards the distant mountains
like a pilgrim in the old stories—
ready to take on any danger,
hapless but always hopeful,
certain that my simple belief
in the light
would be enough.