Does not rise beyond the trees, surprising us,
(who were accustomed to the thin moonlight,
or starlight, or the glare from city lights)
identifying itself as Dawn.
It does not ripple over the hills
between the clouds of an approaching storm.
It is not fluorescent over a coffee counter,
nor does it flare from the tip of a match.
Photographs taken in it are identical
with those of the same scene in sunlight,
or under an incandescent bulb.
It is that which, dripping with April or bare and sere,
informs the trees with the whole of their being.
February 12, 1988
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