Light fades on the worn brick of the chimney I see out my window.
The weathering of the blocks does not matter
Nor does aging peeling paint
Nor the bird perched atop the flue cap
A wing flaps now and now again
Fading light golden and warm
Fading light the glorious crown of a premature spring day
Fading light golden and precious
Light now fading is what matters in this narrow view
I hold of spring’s reality
No comments:
Post a Comment