This photo was not taken today. Today I am waking up to more rain after all night thunderstorms. But last week one morning was glorious. The sunrise lit up the cypress and oaks and sent a line of light down the bayou. I try again and again to capture this morning light in a photograph or a poem. Anything I try is an imperfect approximation.
How many ways
does the sun rise?How many days
are you alive
to bathe your facein light?
Margaret Simon, quick draft
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Reflections on the Teche 