already making its descent toward the horizon
Outside, the light settles at low angles,
post-Christmas gold that wraps the birch and fir
in translucent atmospheric muslin
Settling back in a chair, there is stillness everywhere,
and one can’t help be struck and then immersed
in the surrounding silence
As the sun schedules its stop toward the west,
it casts longer shadows between the dark trees
and eroding whiteness on the ground
Through the windows and sliding through the shades,
the light visits through the venetian blinds,
alighting the white walls and pale wood floors, varnished,
until it hits the upright piano with its well-worn brown
craters and striations, the feathery wisps of dust, the
yellowing keys beneath the folded cover
and then everything that has been washed in winter light
becomes an unfiltered amber seen only on a Sunday afternoon
Written: 12/27/09
Photo: Tim Walker
No comments:
Post a Comment