Early light slants low across the lawn.
Cuplike, this little valley brims with sun.
Pages fill and empty. In the mist
of a still morning, nothing’s out of reach.
Decades fade, the past glides into range,
recoverable, a pristine cobweb caught
motionless in one slat of morning light.
You’re on your daily walk uphill and back.
Summer’s end balances autumn’s start.
One apple falls without a breath of wind,
but fruit past counting’s hidden in the tall
wet grass. Like this valley now, my heart
is full. I start to climb the hill toward you.
My soul flies out to greet you coming down.
Articles by Rachel Hadas
