Even this late it happens:
the coming of love, the coming of light. 
You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves, 
stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows, 
sending up warm bouquets of air.
Even this late the bones of the body shine 
and tomorrow’s dust flares into breath.

-Mark Strand, Poets.org

Tagged: contemporary poetry, dreams, light, love, Mark Strand, Mark Strand poem, poetry, stars, the coming of light, the coming of love