Times in the morning early
when it rained and the long gray
buildings came forward from darkness
offering their windows for light.
Evenings out there on the plains
when sunset donated farms
that yearned so far to the west that the world
centered there and bowed down.
A teacher at a country school
walking home past a great marsh
where ducks came gliding in —
she saw the boy out hunting and waved.
Silence on a hill where the path ended
and then the forest below
moving in one long whisper
as evening touched the leaves.
Shelter in winter that day —
a storm coming, but in the lee
of an island in a cover with friends —
oh, little bright cup of sun.