8 o'clock light

This morning I woke up to 8 o'clock light--

at seven--

golden rays streaming through

translucent green leaves on the lower branches

of a giant mulberry that makes its home behind

my bedroom window.

"The tree with the lights in it," I thought,

and then spent the next hour trying to bring it back.

No such luck,

but such joy in the present passing moments with each

curtain

of leaves dropping noiselessly,

randomly,

shamelessly dancing their way

to the ground.

8 o'clock light at seven, and the leaves dancing down;

it must be autumn.