This is a gentle little one. The weather in it reminds me of that E.B. White letter from last Thursday–“things can look dark, then a break shows in the clouds, and all is changed, sometimes rather suddenly.”
Against Panic
by Molly Fisk
You recall those times, I know you do, when the sun
lifted its weight over a small rise to warm your face,
when a parched day finally broke open, real rain
sluicing down the sidewalk, rattling city maples
and you so sure the end was here, life a house of cards
tipped over, falling, hope’s last breath extinguished
in a bitter wind. Oh, friend, search your memory again–
beauty and relief are still there, only sleeping.