A second day of January drizzle
began to fizzle out under a low gray dome
over northeastern Kansas.

In the dim light of fading day,
there wasn’t much to say of any difference
between the nearest ridge of trees
and those a mile or more away:
details were lost in the dim haze.

As the fading began to ease into darkness,
and I looked at the break 
between the nearest neighbor’s house
and her garage,
I saw what I thought at first must be a mirage—
a thin slice of orange light
pried from between the hard edge of the earth
and the darkest blue of overhanging sky.

It held there, warm and soft,
just a bit of brightness in two days of slouching clouds,
and yet lasting long enough
to make me think of a Greater Light,
bright as day above the low heavens
of this world’s passing storms.

It reminded me, too, of how little it takes
to ease the darkness of a dismal day:
a friendly wave, a gentle smile,
an encouraging comment in that long, last mile
that we had thought we were walking
alone and unseen.


H. Arnett
1/20/23