.
I hear the oiled hinge of a new door
opening as silence, nothing’s
happened yet
………………………. open’s
not a motion but a state,
not a movement but a wait
the bloody morning light’s
the ending moment of a wake,
a dam of light about to break
to burst upon the earth
to tell that something new’s at stake
in searing autumn colors on a hill
to tell of frigid fingers
in a chill of rhapsodic golden
yellows, orange, brown
to tell of all that coming down
by the hard breath of something blowing
coming through, something old,
something new
all the falling
then the still
a still, deleting whiteness
under blue
Jim Culleny
10/26/17
Blink 