THERE
Light is only in the field sometimes – often it is not there at all, and the rain seeps into the corners of the sky to make the trees that stand between seem darker, larger than they really are.
When light fills the field it is like liquid gold filling full a cup, sometimes so bright the eye can hardly bear to hold there.
Only once have I known such light open like a flower so that I was drenched in all of heaven pouring over me, until I knew that I stood somewhere that was mine and no-one else’s for a second, for a moment, for a breath – that I became a kind of gold and all the world in shadow lay beyond.
Kenneth Steven