The early morning
September sun
Rises above
The valley’s end.
It is so low in the autumn sky
That trees standing
On the mountainside
Are illuminated,
Not from above,
But from the side.
September sun
Rises above
The valley’s end.
It is so low in the autumn sky
That trees standing
On the mountainside
Are illuminated,
Not from above,
But from the side.
Thus
Each tree casts the shadow of itself
On its neighbor
So that
The part that is in sunlight
Appears in sharp relief
From all the others
That surround it.
And this uncommon light
Bathes the entire expanse
In molten hues,
Making the tips of
The yellow larch trees
Appear to be
A host of golden spears
Pointed toward heaven.
1 comment:
Each morning, this past September I would wake up and go to the window in the living room of Second Floor Chalet 7, to see how the slanting morning sun had painted the trees on the side of Buckskin. You have captured that magical moment!
Larry
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