The Architecture of Sunlight
       

Imagine the sandstone sun just
before down, streaming through
the lattice of the garret's
broad windows: dusk orange
levered up on the far wall.
Even your room inclines westward,
somber shadows to begin.

As the ceiling admits to evening,
a skylight slopes in the kitchen.
Open it slowly, a single pane leveling
reflection. Along the hip rafter's
diagonal, a tapestry arcs into the wedge
of a spare room. Day's heat rises
from downstairs and peaks

and goes out. Later, the candles.
The way you gaze toward
the sky beyond the glass is no
fiction. Where all beams
converge is the center of your
thought, a minor chord scissored,
gimlet sun refueling inward.

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Copyright © 2013 A. E. Stringer All rights reserved
from Late Breaking
Salmon Poetry
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission