Morning’s borrowed light
slides in, unasked;
a soft spill across the floorboards,
easy as breath on a cool pane.
Mourning’s borrowed light
comes barrowed in,
uncasked from whatever vessel
kept it sealed ‘til now—
a gentle run that steadies
over its greaves the heart still wears
for one who grieves,
a release that settles the chest,
making weight briefly bearable.
.