Like Light

Light comes in the morning,

orange, then gold, then white gold,

etches shadow filagree on walls through windows,

folds its glow through cracks of doors

And if I simply don’t allow

for any place to be untouched,

if I let light bathe every curve of thought,

I’ll leave no place inside for dread or worry,

I’ll entertain no images of scorn

And if, like sun, my love is humble,

indiscriminate because its source is infinite,

it will leave space for birds to shine and sing

in their own language, and smiles to well up

from their profoundest depth.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 20, 2019