Light Falling On Pages

Poetic reflection on witnessing day's first light.

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my best days bear witness to the moment

when the taper of morning’s candle is

swallowed with the in-breaking of dawn’s greater light

and words once shadowed flame again

revealed golden by the rising.

.

i am no monk, no great lover of austere offices,

yet when the light from without and within

collides and night’s edge jars against day’s arrival,

who could deny the heart’s upward movement

toward the ancient Mystery?

.

when fatigue or sorrow or bitterness pile up

strengthening the body’s temptation

to betray this early watch,

may I remember the quiet glory

witnessed here in Word and Light-

early gifts offered up once more

shaping me for all the coming day will bring.

.

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