The Brighter Light

Shadows fall into a new morn darkness,
deepening mystery, bird calls above.
Hidden path. Feel the pulsing aliveness.
The dark holds a language, memory of

dreams, disappearances, fragments of love.
Like spider in wait, suspended in web,
her silk filaments surround like a glove,
or flowers recovering from the ebb

of last night's rainstorm, there's a message from
nature, day follows night follows day, and
the darker the shadows, the brighter light.

Cicadas maintain their soft, steady hum
and today's blue of sky feels very grand.
I soak in their secrets, this core of life.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019


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