After Hurricane Katrina: Waiting for a Rhyme
Once it has come to have its place with us
The holy really cannot let us go.
I have seen it stare back at me from trees
Felled by a hurricane and still extend
Leaf after leaf with green imaginings
Which while they cure in the black aftermath
Carried me for a moment: I was here
In the blue waiting room of heaven outside.
But since this is a sonnet, fourteen lines
The small apartment you and I can share,
I'm leaving decoration up to you.
Remember, somehow pull it together,
Be witty, oh, and rhyme with paradise.
—Peter Cooley
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