When the sun goes down--and you happen to notice it--And the sky
is dear, there's always a whitish fight
edging the earth's offerings. This
is the lost, impermanent light The soul is pulled toward, and longs for,
deep in its cave, Little canary. This is the light its wings dissolve in
if it ever gets out from underground.
from
Sestets (Farrar, Straus and Giroux,
2009
)