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.
- A former Wilbur Fellow and six-time nominee for a Pushcart award, in 2007, she has published three books, Measured By Song, Making Music.
As one of two finalists in the 2013 Aldrich Press Poetry Book Award, Cook was awarded publication of the manuscript for The View From Here, her third book
I During Poetry Week 2014, The Poetry Collecftion at SUNYAB, Buffalo, published Cook’s chapbook of her work.
Poems and essays by Sally Cook have appeared in numerous magazines and journals such as Blue Unicorn, Chronicles, First Things, The Formalist Portal, Light Quarterly, Lighten Up Online, National Review, Pennsylvania Review, Trinacria and other venues, both print and electronic.
The poet is also a painter of Magic Realist paintings. She began as an exhibitor in Manhattan’s Tenth Street Co-operative Galleries, moved into geometrics and went on from there. Her work has been exhibited at many leading galleries and museums and represented in national collections.