Light
by Ken Sanes
I am lifted out of sleep by the morning light,
on a day that’s like a picture, luminous and bright.
And from my window I see people leaving for work,
heading for the race that will decide who is first,
and I see children starting to work at their play
as their parents lift them up to greet the new day.
And from my door I see a cloud under a radiant sun,
with feathered grains of pollen being lifted and spun,
and, in the trees, trilling warblers lift off in flight,
then land on other trees that lift them to the light,
until it all surges upward and starts to overflow
as it pours into the life of the lighted self below.
I then look inside, to find the meaning of the day,
but there’s a flight of birds, and I’m swept away.