when gold beams bend

the first rays of the morning streaming in all
soft through crinkled linen — that is
my favorite time of light; when gold
beams bend against the green-glowing grass — that
is my favorite time of light; when frost glitters
on every trembling, crumbling leaf for
the fleeting moment between dark and dawn; when the
stars wash the wide country skies with their glitter
or when the lowering sun sets the world on fire — that is
my favorite time of light — the
silver and the sparkle and the wonder and the gold