Poem by Mira Kores

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On God's Lap


What to believe

when I'm winterwrapped in tule fog,

gray mist spreading up river from the Delta



is this fog the collected breath

of my so far life?

* * *

Let me put down my tea ---------

smooth out my robe and reach through the glass

turn on the sun and wind up the birds,

the hawks and the herons,

untie the wind--to rustle the cottonwoods

fire up the spark and merge with the current,

ride the waves down river on a mission



to raise the dead.