The light comes up over the alley
Reveling the deep ruts in the snow
Running over each other,
Maneuvers from the early birds
Going to work.
The light continues over our house
To the clean snow of our pristine yard
Deep enough to offer suggestive definitions
Of our lawn furniture and planters.
Continuing its quiet exciting journey
The light steps over the big bush,
The sidewalk, the street,
Leaps over trees, rushes to the horizon
Relentlessly fleeing before it.
My stoic tree;
It doesn't even blink.
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