The coming of light

oldhippy

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Even this late it happens:
the coming of love, the coming of light.
You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves,
stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows,
sending up warm bouquets of air.
Even this late the bones of the body shine
and tomorrow’s dust flares into breath
Mark Strand 1934-2014

_DSC2420 by ed brown, on Flickr
 
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Hey that's good, Ed, but I'd want a somewhat larger crop for this. :applause:
 
Well done. Nice poem.

Sent from my XT1254 using Tapatalk
 
Very "comfortable" to look at. Nice job Ed.
 

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