Tuesday, February 7, 2017

There will always be light in the world


We were without power a good long while yesterday, and so I spent the afternoon and evening watching the light change. At dusk, I saw one last sparrow in a bush out front, in a little opening obviously made just for that moment. The dimming light hugged her like mist, and she seemed to be suspended between sleep and song — like a note at the end of a piece of music, composed late in life by a master who still feels himself young. I found some of my mother’s old candles, lit them one by one, and did some singing myself, thinking, There will always be light in the world, light enough to carry on.



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