Poem For A Birthday

Say that the year is round, and on its top
March lighted candles in concentric rows.
They drip their wax, which hardens on the heart
As birthdays pass, and most of us suppose 
That all we ask is just some time to stop,
Regroup, remit the past, revere a rose.
A natal day is just the place you start
To win or lose, to plow through winter snows.
Over the curve the candles move, then drop
Down, as the winds of time bring to a close
Each sturdy, hopeful wish within the heart;
More light recedes, and all our aging shows.

Sally Cook is both painter and poet. Whether writ­ing or paint­ing, she keeps a sharp eye out for the psy­cho­log­i­cal por­trait. Her essays and poetry have been pub­lished in jour­nals such as The Chimera, Chron­i­cles, Con­tem­po­rary Son­net, Iambs & Trochees, Pivot, and The For­mal­ist Por­tal. Look for her in the next issue of Light Quar­terly. Cook’s review “Rhyming The Right”, of William Baer’s anthol­ogy “The Con­ser­v­a­tive Poets”, may be seen both in the cur­rent issue of The Uni­ver­sity Book­man and on its website.