The heat of sleep evaporates in the late morning while the coffee steams, then cools. Morning light passes by the window without looking in.
Tag Archives: light
small stone (256)
A chill edge to the air, a blue tint to the light filtering through the window. Sleep ends, severed by those twin blades, in full awareness.
small stone (251)
Penultimate summer sun, gaze softened by the day’s lowering angle. Gleaming off stone, as if stone were flesh and light, a lover.
small stone (248)
Night, straining toward cool. The cats on the porch startle at my approach then slide into the dark. A quiet house. The room’s single lamp.
small stone (232)
The day leavens with light, a biting light that fills the sky. But the wind is sharp, sharper than knives, and the day ends raw and cold.
back alley and light, varanasi
small stone (195)
Steam from a cup of tea dissipates, writhing; then is gone. Thinning obelisks of light move across the floor and wall.
small stone (192)
Our house smells of quiet and light, though the windows had curtained the uninhabited rooms a week. I enter and sit down hesitantly, like guest.
contour, color
small stone (189)
The day descends. The light, direct as a stare two hours ago, shifts to innuendo; like an old friend, hinting at what could have been.