that kind of light
with the sun at its edges
spills from my window
that sunlight
fluent in summer
on primeval days
when I slipped into the undimmed air
like the unclouded water of my childhood
looking down and through as my eyes
harvest the luminous
morning in the glass of dreams
standing at the start of days and days
floating in the
transparent air endless and infinite
I see beyond the now
giddy with possibilities
the horizon clothed in translucent light
waltzing with beginnings
like the water that swirls
endlessly luminescent
stepping toward the window
portal of possibilities
I hold these truths to be self-evident
door of pale yellow
that spills inside
makes patterns on the rug
I am not finished yet
sunlight snagged in the tops of trees
dream catchers
dreams
