Light
Light. The rapture of it, heft
and weight. Two birches wear the white sheen
of it, a zinnia’s face blazes gold in it,
sidewalk shadows change size because of it.
Quick as that, a gloss of light lands
on the cricket’s back, then leaves. Leaves in Fall
are charged with it, fierce light pulsing out
from colors against black bark after rain.
When dark falls, there is an absence,
a quiet sorrow in the realm of eyesight.
Edges blur and soften, and we no longer
recognize what we knew so keenly yesterday.
Then daybreak, when the rapt world flames forth
again, scattering bits of light, delirious light.
Reprinted with permission of Salmon Poetry
