Sunless spring,
summer clogged with mud,
daily outlook darkened
with endless storm and flood,
so rare the light of sunset,
the pond cannot believe its eye,
and stops in breathless wonder
to return it to the sky.
Tag Archives: light
Disconnections: December 3.18
Child-tree
frail, lithe
bids the good-bye light
stay.
The grasses lend their wool
musty-hued
but night
and winter
will be.
Many thanks to photographer S.W. Berg.
Disconnections: September 12.18
What light pierces
it fires,
warning the eye:
Look fast —
but a moment’s sun
blazes
through this glowing cup,
this petal’d Chartres.
Connections: September 24.16
Under autumn-tinged arch
soulsong clear:
see
me
and remember I was here.
Thanks again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
Connections: February 14
When I twist
and change direction
do I sculpt waves
of silvered complexion?
Does my world part
making way
through arcs of light
in halo’d play?
Are there ripples
a microsplash
a silken wake
a blazoned flash?
Connections: November 1
Flushed in autumn nip
in pinked anticipation
my maple’s bright fillip
extols today’s good station:
springtime’s theft has been restored
though light be meager ration
and I will quiet hours hoard
in flannel’d hibernation.
