Slant of Light
Late in the afternoon
a favorite slant of light
It tickles the firethorn
invites sunflowers to turn
shifts jasmine’s white to cream
dusts everything with gold
Why do poems demand the dawn?
My body wants to sleep
yet fingers claim the keys
Silence wakes my genie
she swigged that slant of light
kindling an inner fire
that pleads for air
Write it write it
now write it now
ah, the glorious demands of art.
Write it write it
now write it now
Amen!