The morning Light

 

First morning sunlight, always that light,

The first, both of this day and of each day before,

Though pouring now through 8 foot sashes,

Penetrating closed old lids and a thin, short lashes,

It is the same, the one electron giving sight,

As slanted once through smaller panes

Held between well sculpted mullion stones

The one electron lighting up the view,

It lit up childhood in its fresher way,

Illuminating empty air and muddy ground,

Yet never old, unknowable and never new.

Bathed in its calm strength we are secure,

Feeling warming physics in our bones,

Knowing all we loved and lost is evermore,

That time is just perception or a sense,

Dividing up the weight of the immense,

Distributing the force of the profound.