DAWN, AGAIN

There are times when that which is utterly familiar,
happens every day, can take place without
fanfare, emotion, remembrance or any mortal note.

The poem following is evidence of that:

“THE BUILDING OF LIGHT

Mauve mist shadow cloaks the sky’s
River-blurred, inchoate border.
Dawn’s old story, and light tries —
Not the last time — to devise
Lasting order.

Look. The moon’s pale-copper sphere
Rings — a gong too faint to hear —
Through the city.

Let them linger, unawake.
Down the mountain’s wrinkled brilliance
Darkness empties like a lake
Minted gold, house windows make
Coins worth millions.

Both in disbelief and pride
All the buildings in the distance
On the river’s farther side
Take up, as the shadows slide,
New existence.

Shadow slides along the roof,
Past the guttering and gable,
Shrinks, and leaves the house aloof
Where the light reads out its proof
Like a fable.”

…………STEPHEN EDGAR, Sidney, Australia

Dawn happens like that, it takes only moments.
I’m usually just waking up half-way around the world
from the poet. Yet, I have a faint sense of memory
of something seen so often, or only briefly, that
holds the essence of a place, not in time,
Very much like this poem.

with love …
Mom/Mimi/Toni/Antoinette

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