Sunrise on an Autumn Morning

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Sunrise on an Autumn Morning

I saw
for one brief moment
the light
creeping over the hill
between horizon and fog,
everywhere suffused
with the rose and gold
of morning —
as though we turned
and moved
in joy,
as though we, like all beings,
could reach out
our hands
to cup the day and drink.
The sun rose into cloud,
obscured.
What had lingered
rustling in the shining
crowns of the trees
retreated
into mist.
Now the rooftops
and the bark of the trees
glisten
darkly
with the rainy
dawn and gloom
and everything is still
and wet
and shadowless.
Peace, friends, I say
to the trees.
This too is a kind of light.
And like them,
like all beings, slowly
I open my hands.