The Coming of Light
by Mark Strand
Even this late it happens:
the coming of love, the coming of light.
You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves,
stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows,
sending up warm bouquets of air.
Even this late the bones of the body shine
and tomorrow's dust flares into breath.
please note: art by Marc Chagall
Even this late it happens:
the coming of love, the coming of light.
You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves,
stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows,
sending up warm bouquets of air.
Even this late the bones of the body shine
and tomorrow's dust flares into breath.
please note: art by Marc Chagall
Very special indeed.
ReplyDeleteI love this poem--thank you for posting it!!
ReplyDeleteLovely, as always.
ReplyDeletethe words of this poem seem intrinsically linked to the artwork... beautiful...
ReplyDeleteThe Chagall looks like it was made for the poem. Wonderful.
ReplyDeleteI have adored this poem for years, more as I grow older. It's amazing what can happen to us old people.
ReplyDeleteMagical!!! :)
ReplyDeleteReminds me of some of the late poems of HD when she fell in love with her doctor dear the end of her life.
ReplyDeleteI believe, I believe.
ReplyDeleteTruly lovely and so perfectly paired with Chagall.
Leaves me floating . . . g'night
Wonderful, this is one to read right before bed, for sweet dreams :-).
ReplyDeleteMark Strand - one of my favorite poets and also in the next post Sharon Olds. Like a nice gift you left for me!
ReplyDelete