American Life in Poetry: Column 269

It is enough for me as a reader that a poem take from life a single moment and hold it up for me to look at. There need not be anything sensational or unusual or peculiar about that moment, but somehow, by directing my attention to it, our attention to it, the poet bathes it in the light of the remarkable. Here is a poem like this by Carolyn Miller, who lives in San Francisco.

The World as It is

No ladders, no descending angels, no voice

out of the whirlwind, no rending

of the veil, or chariot in the sky—only

water rising and falling in breathing springs

and seeping up through limestone, aquifers filling

and flowing over, russet stands of prairie grass

and dark pupils of black-eyed Susans. Only

the fixed and wandering stars: Orion rising sideways,

Jupiter traversing the southwest like a great firefly,

Venus trembling and faceted in the west—and the moon,

appearing suddenly over your shoulder, brimming

and ovoid, ripe with light, lifting slowly, deliberately,

wobbling slightly, while far below, the faithful sea

rises up and follows.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2009 by Carolyn Miller, from her most recent book of poems, Light, Moving, Sixteen Rivers Press, 2009. Reprinted by permission of Carolyn Miller and the publisher. Introduction copyright © 2009 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.