Winter Light:



The light is so subtle at this time of the year – the short light time.
Softest of white grey,
a stripe of pink grey
and black to white-grey
purplish tinge – tint.
So soft it’s like a hidden ache,
a twinge to make me briefly bend at the waist.
The night comes so quickly,
the morning dawns so late that full day-light is momentary.
Swiftly to pass to another state.
I’m tired of waiting for it to be light.
It must be night if it’s dark, Nathaniel used to say,
but sometimes
it’s full dark with a moon,

in the morning. 

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