Cloud on the horizon:
unattended in the realms of heaven
waiting like an impatient footman
for the coming of the sun,
a stubborn picture of frozen white interfacing
and contrasting with a dead sky,
waiting for the dawn.
Sun in the east:
Rising in ambush behind the cloud
consuming darkness with red then amber light,
lining the edge of the cloud with gold,
lightning solid against the background
of the eastern sea.

          Failing afternoon: The evening begun.
          Sun returning below the west, often
          obscured by thunder clouds, winds that fan
          them through the sky, shadows that run
          unheeding through the trees, lacing
          them with dimness, ascending high
          as night is born.
          Light the least
          of all its subjects, in this kingdom of proud
          predestined darkness, its image slight
          and blanched from the moon, quivering in the cold,
          agitated at the foreign sound
          of its hidden enemy.

				                      1975