Joy Refracted / Joshua Alan Sturgill
You have your joy refracted
through every chore or track
or call or weight or hunch.
Joys enters through a thousand doors
— though not at once.
Each Springtime brings one lily
for an Easter Week bouquet.
Clouds in winter stress and crack
and all the single rays released
make up a sunny day.
Your tale’s told in episodes
— sundog shimmer, an orange rose,
songs and signs, unexpected luck
in sidewalk penny-pieces
always just enough.
The great Liturgy is litanies
the pilgrim prays along his road.
The child feasts on simple fare;
beggars laugh best; the wise man
knows he never knows.
Joy’s insights’s interjection: wings
the new-born lark remembers
as he falls (and rising, sings);
long-awaited letters; proud-
though-blackened
fireman’s hands; sweetgum leaves
in windstorms; thin-worn wedding rings.
Joy’s the playground breathless
pause that floats forever
high as you can swing
All poetry and supplementary material: copyright 2024 by Joshua Alan Sturgill. All rights reserved.
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