Epiphany

There is a silver light on my paper,
right in the midst of this poem -
and there is a window,
cracked behind my shoulder.
And the warm spring is
dripping in.

I tried three times
to write this poem,
but none of the others
caught the sunlight.
None of them soaked up
the glow of solar love,
caught the catholic smile
beaming at us all.

So I enshrined the sunlight's kiss
on my paper
with these words
to trace its shape
and keep it
for you
even after the sun is set.