Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Mark Strand

The Coming of Light
by Mark Strand

Even this late it happens:
the coming of love, the coming of light.
You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves,
stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows,
sending up warm bouquets of air.
Even this late the bones of the body shine
and tomorrow's dust flares into breath.

There are so many words and poems lately to which all I can say is "yes! yes! yes! Exactly!"
this is one of them.

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