5:15 am
At first its just dark
and I'm lonely for you
and all the logistics of life
feel unsolvable-
your life, mine, the cat's,
those of the people next door
who turn in their
beds in the dark.
Then my eyes become accustomed
and I see that the hillside
outside this window
has begun to drink light.
It lies now
silver gray in the day's first stirrings
and drinks
and nothing we say or do,
no problem we solve or do not solve
will stop it.
Whether dawn arrives in a
golden chariot
or through the billion grey prisms
of a steady rain,
whether we touch again
or turn away,
are blessed or wounded
light will find us.
All we are is light.
© Peter Harris-Kunz, 1996
Poems by Peter Harris-Kunz
The Albany Poetry Workshop