dark descends

Our ordinary neighborhoods, with the approach of winter,
become places of imagination at night: houses and trees
are outlined with brilliant points of light, shrubs and staircases
are redefined by clouds, garlands, fanciful shapes of light.
We need this illumination, this display, this imagination
in our darkening days, to awaken wonder that can dispel
the vacuum left by the departure of the sun. We need this
more than the ancients who began it, because their lights gave
heat: we live in a world of light without heat, and heat
without light. We seldom hold our hands over a light bulb to
warm fingers; nor do we use the light of a radiator to allow us
to read. It is the cold clear nights of winter that draw our gaze
to the skies, and this can lead to a frightening moment in which
we understand how close we are to total insignificance.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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