by Katherine Hauswirth
For John Milton
Today’s first waking hour
saw light pushing
under the eaves
into the den
With it
I found your words again,
considering how
your light
was spent
Forced
to stand and wait,
you mourned the chance
for release
onto the page
But obsolete eyes
failed to seal
your descent
What you spoke
from dim depths
threw whitest sparks,
glazed to permanence
in the limitless kiln
of your mind
In the embarrassment
of light
that comes
from every angle,
my words have been
spent carelessly
Standing
and waiting
for some signal
that will not come
So I consider
how your words
were spent
I sit
bathed in the crescendo
that is day,
warmth greeting my shoulder,
light on the page,
poring over this gift
you have left
for me to see
From:
first published in Wilderness House Literary Review
Copyright ©:
2009
Last updated May 24, 2011