THE CHANGING LIGHT
Robert Lietz
See how the seasons-stiffened poplar
proves the wind’s returned for it, serving
ends agreed to their conclusion in mad fields,
from darkness to first light, sure, restoring
an order there, and finches, cardinals darting
from umbrage personalized, setting
the yard and good day up, a preview observed
through porch screens and triple glazing,
from this room, as our love’s engendered it,
receiving the changing light
the tall glass in front shares seasonally, mornings
the parlor’s all caught up, so it’s easy
to see, Elizabeth, to imagine the light’s source,
shimmering constellations, to know
what belongs, what a day like our own involves,
high twenties bright, complete
with its breakfast rites and a first look through
photographs, websites, toward
this hawk revisiting, posting for inspection, and
winging then, giving me back to pictures,
reminding space, topography, the day as it is
in how many other places, teased
by this same light, by snow the news predicted,
winds we came out for in advance,
topping the feeders off a little ahead of history,
improving the distributions, the main
event, the statewide amusements, and locals
dreading every inch of it,
raiding the grocery shelves, stacking
their pantries,
it seems, as always here,
in case.
Robert Lietz's poems have appeared in over one hundred journals, including Colorado Review, Georgia Review, Missouri
Review, and Shenandoah, and dozens of webzines. Among his eight collections are The Lindbergh Half-century and Storm
Service. Lietz enjoys taking, post-processing, and printing photographs, examining the relationship between them and
poems he’s exploring.