Hard Night

(Found here)

What words or harder gift

does the light require of me

carving from the dark

this difficult tree?

What place or farther peace

do I almost see

emerging from the night

and heart of me?

The sky whitens, goes on and on.

Fields wrinkle into rows

of cotton, go on and on.

Night like a fling of crows

disperses and is gone.

What song, what home,

what calm or one clarity

can I not quite come to,

never quite see:

this field, this sky, this tree.

~Christian Wiman