The Light Around Us

When the sun rises in the east, It blows the crows off my fence And I see—night is a wide empty page, Snow falls across it, white and silent. The light comes in, And I step to meet it,
My shadow stumbles
Just behind me, Long and leaning, as a memory
Whispers in the shape of a whisper.

In that light, the trees seem to pause
And nod—a question lies
In their dark branches;
They lean gently towards me,
Waiting to be understood, The shadows answer the light.

• Robert Bly