Sunrise And Other Thoughts

Sky is both diffuser

And its own prismatic piece.

Its job is Light,

Which goes and flows,

And touches here and there,

On bended frond or purling wake,

Or jalousie’s a-line skirt.


Receiving Light,

That little thing – the branch, the wave, the pane –

Lobs it fracteled left and right

Improbably to find

Corners still in westward gloam,

Walls facing yesterday.


A watcher looking east,

Seeing silhouette afire,

Bows at Light that seeks and finds

And rides on little things,

Surprising Light, physics’ star,

A Law unto Itself.

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