I am learning to love the darkness.
The deep blue-black of winter mornings
As the window shades to palest white,
The black silhouette of birch branches
Before the sunrise scatters light.
When did I change? I’ve always been
One who loved candlelight and flame,
Who wanted brighter rainbows, warmer suns.
Now I wake every morning, look and look again
At that dark velvet-blue.
I love the moment for itself, no need
To wait for the sun’s coming, as a seed
Holds the whole plant, blossom, fruit and leaf,
So night holds dawn, and winter—spring, death—life.
And love holds light and dark, and death and time,
As birch twigs hold the stars in one bright line.
Photograph by Bob Moore
Smoky Quartz 