A Certain Type of Light - DAVID BREHMER

-For Liebe and Linda

There is a certain type of light 

in a certain type of garden 

where the sun does not bake 

or pry or cover. 

It lays atop each leaf, 

patient to be received, 

radiating the potential of each 

green and hovering moment. 

Hushed and buzzing green, 

glowing bright and cool and ready. 

Stirring, patient green, 

glowing ageless and new. 

But, not ageless, ancient. 

The fence post disappears inch by

inch. Shadows cut new angles 

as the leaves grow dense with summer. 

The sun arcs across the casually evolving

landscape, stretches and sinks each day closer 

to pristine and rotting fruit. 

Flies and blossoms buzz in turn, 

bloom and wither and burn and be. 

Beneath the sun the garden pulses, 

hushed and standing, reaching

imperceptibly towards compost. 

But to walk in that light, to taste 

the peaches appear and swell, 

to know the figs at each stage of their

existence, to smell the green and living world 

caress and make way for and tower

above your silly, magnificent steps. 

You smile and sit and join with her 

and the Earth and everything. 

The sun will find your upturned palm 

and lay like her hand atop yours, 

patient to be received.

Previously Published by Finishing Line Press in my collection Life, Death, Love, and Babies, 2023

David Brehmer’s poems have been featured in small rooms throughout the East Bay and in/on The MacGuffin, Humana Obscura, Hyacinth Review, Persephone's Fruit, Alien Buddha, and  Ginosko Literary Journal. His first non-self published collection, Life, Death, Love, and Babies, is now available on Finishing Line Press. He writes to prove how much he loves life, despite his thoughts and words. He would like to think it will get better and suggests everyone take a walk in the woods at least once a week.

(https://david-brehmer.squarespace.com/ldlbbook)

@daviddrum22