Dipper

The light length shifts the balance,
Tips emotions like basins,
Like prospectors’ sifting pans.

In the long days, it’s daybreak
Feels more anticipated
And evening more reluctant.

In the short days, the reverse.
It’s subtle, though, just shifting,
Sloshing, feeling through the hours

To see what glints. Real events,
Responses to this process
Of living turn it over,

Dump it all, now and again,
And then there’s a barrenness.
And then there’s bottom gravel

With maybe a glint this time,
And days go back to rhythmic,
And the light matters again.