On the Ledge
Strange how yesterdays afternoon light
Fell wan off the studio walls.
I had thought they'd seem brighter, more solid.
My friend's plain kindness.
When I couldn't sleep last night,
I got up around four
And put my fingers on the stone sill
To watch dark snow filling the ledges
That had glistened all summer with heat.
I stood there a long time.
What can I give in return?
I will not cover my face
Against the dawn's cold breaking.