Light Comes Late: A Friday Poem

January is a great time for sunrise observation. Here’s a reflection after another beauty today.

Light Comes Late
by Ben White

Light comes late
Through impossible branches
Of lake lining,
Horizon heaving

Naked in winter.
Jagged shapes
And unimaginable lines,
Stranger than you could think
To design

Scrawled against the sky.
Back-lit by
Gray-blue brightening
Toward orange
Or maybe pink –

You never know by now.
Dawn comes
In contrast, of course,
Unpredictable yet
Always the same.

You can listen to me read it here

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