Light, inescapable, bathes the tall faces
Of buildings whose ground floors still mingle
With shadows and footfalls and breaths
That have just become visible this time of day.
This may be the one morning all year
That we feel the earth tilt on its axis
And see- perhaps down an alleyway
Drowned in the shadows-
The tunnel of years we collapse
In our memories down to their bones,
To the way the light fell
In its journey of angles to darkness.