just as snow starts to gather on the window,
the sun breaks just beneath the clouds and
above the horizon, a sliver of sky so small
we wonder how it fits there at all;

but as the light shimmers from that slice
the whole world painted orange for a
split second,
nothing-
the wind, the snow, the cold-
nothing matters but that
fleeting moment of incandescent beauty;

this was once a life before the sun
escaped and left this place in darkness;
overcast but hopeful,
shivering but alive;

and now, as the november evening
veers deeper into itself,
closing off every ray of light
and warmth
the sky paints us blue
just before we can't see
anything at all;

unsettled we march toward
the morning, hoping that the dusk
will reaffirm our trust in
anything good in this world;
a shot in the dark
but it makes its mark;

that is, if we can release the tension on the bow;
and we shoot with unbroken arrows;

but i am a coward too careless
to hold hope with gentle hands;
too passive to pull back the wire
to reveal the new dawn,

and i am too lost underneath the endless dark
to find anything at all.

11/22/2007

Posted on 11/22/2007
Copyright © 2024 Andrew S Adams