Light
Breadth of autumnal sunshine
and the five-year-old
neighbor boy's call
to come out
and play ball.
Towering oak
above impatience ~
I miss you, where are you?
There is no ceiling
to love.
That moon, orange
as a thunderous symphony,
announced a triumphant end
to loneliness
and summer.
Even in the darkest depths
a porch light shines
somewhere,
here or there,
guiding me home.
