How We Rise

We rise like November creeks
In the hard fast rain;
We spill over banks -- muddy,
Impenitent, flowing over
Drowned grass, washing new ways,
Spillways, spurling down culverts,
Swirling down rushways, and still --
Rain, beating hard, beating fast.

Or we rise like single bubbles,
Loosened indistinct from a pebble-side;
Slow, stately dirigibles of air,
Closer to the surface, closer to bursting.

Or we rise like stars before dawn
At the summer solstice, announcing
The radiance of the sun; stars
Awash in the morning light,
Overtaken by the sun, still shining,
Always shining, vanishing
Into brightness.