east of sorrow

There is an Ancient Light

that falls across the adobe wall
and the ladder leaning there.
It takes most seriously
the back rest of the wrought iron chair,
the slender arch of its shadow.

Thanks to this light,
the evening is at anchor
and whatever shape
that cloud assumes
that is the shape
I place here on this page

 —Marc Hudson

from East of Sorrow, reprinted with permission