Singular Bow

—on a photo from a friend

I see this as my singular bow,
this light-dyed arc
above my personal falls,

this tenuous spectral gift
sprung over the last day of the year
above my old familiar stream
with its out-cropped snow-capped rocks,
its almost-frozen shooting flume,
its still, reflecting pool, its only pine,
its sun-burst steely clouds
held each to each without a seam,
these timeless naked trees of mine
reaching for a spring to come
and me on naked knees
grateful for what this unexpected
prismed light becomes

Jim Culleny

Photo by Martin Yaffee