The Light

This poem was inspired by the scene in the photo. Such light. The photo does not come close to recreating that light. I had a cup of coffee while the sound of the water gurgled on.

                        The Light

                   That leaf glows
                a luminous emerald
             while the shaded twin
               sits a somber green;
                    this is how it is
         with every lit and unlit thing.

                A shining fast creek
                     is less sinister
             than its shaded portion,
         which holds a dark torpedo
                    while just there
                 rising into the light,
       a trout in glistening speckles.

                      I have seen
                a field full of wheat
            shift from waving beige
      to a shimmering sheet of gold
            and its fringe of poppies
                        transmute
              from a trudging russet
              to a red band of flame.

                   Is there nothing
             that does not brighten
                     to your touch?
                    “No”, says Sol.
                    “It is my kiss
           that brings them all forth
                    and this is how
                    they thank me.”

  4/23-Fontaine-de-Vaucluse

One of those places where you think, "God paused here for a while and tidied up a bit."