There's a certain slant of light,
Winter Afternoons --
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes --
Heavenly Hurt, it gives us --
We can find no scar,
But internal difference --
Where the Meanings, are --
Non may teach it -- Any --
'Tis the seal Despair --
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air --
When it comes, the Landscape listens --
Shadows -- hold their breath --
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death --
"the trees are green!"
except when blue, white, or black:
in morning sun,
in peak sun, in moonlight,
under dense clouds, or no clouds.
in summer sun,
some evergreens look frosted,
as if snow-laden.
two rivers merge:
the smaller, lighter branch
seems shut out, but
the bigger river moves
onward a lighter shade.
light on my face,
i look across the dark valley
to sun-fringed mountains.
light penetrates a fissure,
illuminating a raw wound in rock.
the sun's last gasp
glows against walls and towers,
but forms deep shadows.
the color blobs
cast onto floor & wall
by stained glass light
are brightest just before
the sun drops out of sight.
summer sunlight
sparkles on a blue lake --
always distantly.
two streams join:
one black and one tan --
the lighter moves on.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 