Light Sings

watching the amber light
play its finale across
the plump nodding heads of wheat
at sunset.
the light sings.
and it sings a different song
wherever it touches.
it stops to play amid
the deep green trees and lies
Like honey on the leaves
and it sings in glittering glissandos
across the lake, riffled by the wind.
and aloft amid
the gauzy clouds where it lingers
amid sibilant harmonies
that only angels can discern.
and there, just there,
it echoes off the glass of the houses,
the refuge places of families
tired from the day. and singing, sighing,
settling low in the west,
a lullaby for the remains of the day,
Scattered wide, errant children,
and calls them all together
before it decrescendos,
A lingering pianissimo.
come.
here are the pieces of light that I play,
come sing them with me again tomorrow