A sucker for your long golden light
somewhere about 7pm, interrupts my
thinking about chopsticks, how to
hold the rice better, or do my
hands just tremble slightly
with age? The year doesn’t.
Look at this light. How it
stills the clouds, and people
seem to walk slower as if we are
bathing in it. Why not? Two weeks
ago, I drove to a small town, French
and historic, in Missouri. It was the
Journey really, but it was all about
two minutes forty seconds of solar
bewilderment, a moondance, such
light as that- we just stopped
being adjectives, eclipsed.
Linger longer, you golden
kiss, do you know how
your protons make me
giddy? I get to
experience you
in a life, in
time, for
now I’m
suspended
in your amber
and for some reason
I always remember Septembers.