For over an hour, I’ve been watching
the sun arrive at its height of suddenness.
How gradually that summit is achieved.
How constant the sun in its cornucopia nuances
of dawn. Maybe the first and last sermon
we see, the fumbling after words a kind
of incantation the day accepts as a prayer,
the night hymn forming in the west.
"And now we wait.”
-Byron Hoot
No comments:
Post a Comment