A Day of Definition
Shadows on whitewashed siding
writhe to reveal the life within
a simple geometric scene.
Sunlight encrusts us watching
angels form and dissolve as
the branches on which they perch
sway in the general elegance.
This scene occurs to us daily,
although we don’t always notice
the possibly divine component.
We aren’t people of the sun
but of the shallows of darkness
that hide behind all lit objects.
We sulk too deeply to inhale
the massive photons without
coughing and choking in public.
The moving shadows confront us
with the fact of living matter
interacting with self and other.
Do we do that? Do we struggle
to expose evolving tissue
and risk celestial laughter?
The creation hasn’t finished
creating us. We sip our coffee
at the general store and consider
how much we’ve already wrung
from this day of definition.
Even without our witness
we’re sure that the bushes laden
with daylight angels revel
in the script they’re scrawling on
plank siding that otherwise
would go wordless in the noon.
William Doreski lives in Peterborough, New Hampshire. He has taught at several colleges and universities. His most recent book of poetry is Venus, Jupiter (2023). His essays, poetry, fiction, and reviews have appeared in various journals.
Author’s Backstory: “A Day of Definition” began when I observed the light on clapboard siding on the annex behind the general store in Harrisville, NH. As a breeze shook the branches of a shrub the light danced around from the clapboard to the leaves, suggesting angels flitting about. The poem took off from there. I wrote it in my favorite accentual line, which seems a natural fit for my sensibility and lack of interest or ability in formal experimentation.
Editor’s Notes and/or Image Credit: leaf shadows [photo by Andrei Lazarev on Unsplash] and an angel made transparent [vhv.rs clipart]