A winter speaks of hiding,
It's frozen. But the fall
Compels with ambiguity
As cold creates a pall.

That dries the wild geese, riding
Upon a windy wall.
Severity no one can see
Exudes a lonely call,

Directing, and then guiding
Past winter’s fiery ball
Of sun. This continuity
Makes us peripheral.


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.