Slight Allowance of Silence

the light pierces
the sun
for the first time—this early spring
when surrounding clouds allow vision
and the trees
with infant budlings
whistle in the wind—naked, eager
without a shred of maturity
without a cause for ego
without the energy to renew distant hopes and dreams
this
man's final call—evaporated
in a distant frosty fog
that…ices everything…that
once-warmed monuments defined—a culture
a small moment with a god—or goddess
who never lived but
pulsed rhythm
in a vast collection of brightly lit chests
bent over
painfully …screaming…reaching out
hoping to one day move clouds—like gods—or goddesses
in ways that encourage the sun
to pulse forgiving light
this time