a not so lovely light
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There is something special about the way
the early morning light is drizzled across the park.
A yawning of softness lingers in the air.
Better pictures are stolen before the light fully awakens;
before it takes notice of our gazing at its nakedness.
It’s only after lunch, in the middle of the day, when it stiffens
into sharp knives stabbing at trees and buildings
while it skids and bounces off the river, bursting pupils
with the pain of its reprisals, darting in every direction
looking for escape as though something were chasing it,
perhaps clouds, or night, or tourists’ cameras.
The drowsiness of evening brings it to a calm.
Surrendering itself to lovemaking with tender strokes
and warm caresses before it takes its leave;
A sailor briefly home, then back to sea.
It loves and leaves us as a brute
while we as harlots cling;
and then we mourn our loss.
Copyright © vernon witmer | Year Posted 2021
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