Closing the Cabin:

You can see how it will be:
the stillness in the light,
the vacant squares it makes on the kitchen floor

now the leaves are gone.
The way it gathers the room
into itself: the cups, the empty cuphooks,

the dent in the breadbox --- an eloquence
we'll never manage, language
without tense.

Not ours: we speak
and then our lungs fill up with air again.
We're only passing through.

- Jan Zwicky

---

Light:

Light's on
now

in three
sided balcony

window mid-
building, a floor

up from street.
Wait.

Watch it.
What light

on drab earth,
place on earth---

Continue?
Where to go so

far away
from here?

Friends?
Forgotten?

Movement?
A hand just

flesh, fingers?
White---

Who threads fantastic tapestry
just for me, for me?

- Robert Creeley

---

Sound of raindrops falling from eaves
I
and a spider are speechless half the day

- Ko Un

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