Again

I checked to see if the sun was going to rise.

Not on a screen or the radio.

I walked back by where the dogs were sleeping,

Near the throbbing wood glow of the stove.

Beyond the window scattered light, though faint,

Brought relief through the huddled trees.

They had been out there all night

In the cool moonscape, swaying.

I’m glad the coffee was up and about.

Another signature that life was on the way.

I set the mug on the cast iron heat,

And the dogs, one on each side,

Helped me welcome a new day.

Transposition: The Heat Of Light Has Its Effects.

 

The cloudscape

scraped the sides,

and wayward beams

invaded the lows.

A push down

and in.

Strands of yellow

light weaved

where fog

and mist

were wrested.

The quilted air

pried from

the sculpted knolls

was lifted by

a yellow oscillation.

Together, they were

a secret.

Separate, they are

a mystery.

 

Genesis 1:3

 

 

Photo courtesy of Jessica Szopinski. Guatemala