Light

 

It’s the light, the light

the morning light

 

on dew torn field,

 

it glimmers in the dust

makes waves across the path

 

like omnipresence of

an unknown God.

 

This time of year

when earth’s threadbare

 

I gather all my diamonds

wash them in this morning light;

 

still grateful for the play

of rainbow on my wall,

 

the singing in my heart

 

connects me to

the annals of the past

 

the day we met:

 

sunlight in a park

you all pink & bright

 

on a light filled luminescent

day like this.

 

(Listen here)

 

 

 

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