A Poem: Lamplight

Under the grey cloud,
almost blue now in its translucency,
is a shade light
as soft peach,

as though somewhere a lamp lit,
were softly glowing.

Under the grey sky,
opposite to where the sun sets unseen,
except for her pink giveaway streaks
beyond the tree line,

is a haze of pale pastel mauve,
the grey blue of cloud intermingled
with the setting sun’s reflection.

Peach, or mauve pink,
I don’t know what to call her.
But I think about
how underneath the grey visage
is light.

Light enough to soften the weight of cloud,
to dilute the pull of its grey pall.

And I think of life,
when we think it has been bleached of colour,
and then suddenly a glow
appears subtle as candlelight.

And we fail to find the source,
just see it in the face of those we look upon,
the slight uplift of mouth,
release of pain in set of jaw,
shoulder blades.

And somewhere inside we wonder,
with hand over mouth,
if it has anything to do with us—
this flame that lends itself,
that we fail to see for ourselves,

except for in how it manifests.
only how it manifests.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
February 2022