Friday, February 4, 2011

Poem

February light

What is the promise of February light
as it grids the new
hardwood floor with pink?

It is not only
an arch of gold waiting
behind the drawn gray trees.

It kindles
the sweet smell of sawdust
soft underfoot

and illuminates for me
places that are not cold
and times that are not dark.

I am warmed by it
and by this Winter afternoon
which is wonderfully late.

February 4, 2011


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