Is less a lack of light
Than a quality of seeing
He locks up
With a willful hope
A dream from another life
From another time
Perhaps the children
Will still be awake
With their sparkling eyes
So he hurries home
On a wish and a prayer
Even a drowsy hug is a tonic
Already
Standing in the street
Wary of taxis and buses
The trees obscuring
Already
In my hands
No tripod
The light
So very low
Contrast
So very high
Under a darkling sky
Near the end
Of the sun’s
Long good-night
By this light
No darker
click-cliick-cliiick
Exposures times three
Then merge exposures
To become one
In a too-small frame
With tree branches
Encroaching
While taxis and buses
Approaching
Held that lens
In my hands
With low light
And this frame
So this print
No better
But then too
Not bad