29 March 2016
things I love, part one
I love dusk more than dawn.
Not because it anticipates nightfall;
far from that.
because of its unready strokes of color
making the most of what light is left.
Because of the translucence conveyed,
revealing darkness to be at worst a fib
and at best the pause of a lover.
Because come dawn I head away from home,
and come dusk I am going home, or already there;
Because when you are east of Eden,
you naturally look westward,
head slightly bowed toward remembrance.
Because of the reflections of clouds
in the puddles between corn rows,
certainly not glamorous,
water wedding sky and earth.
Because it is the hour when the words come to mind:
"take from me the spirit of... despair."
The birds are quiet, nestled.
I still sense their hum.
The palomino quarter horse at the end of Metovale
stands still, not even chewing,
The neighbor walking with his wife only
need barely nod
in greeting as I make my last turn.
Inside the baby is nursing;
I kiss his head,
and the lips of
who is reading.
The girls are just into bed,
waiting for a father to say prayers.
This is the hour
wherein more motion is superfluous.
The gentle is king over the hard,
even if just for this slowed time of
last turning glad illumination.
all is revealed to be some
quality of light.