A shaft of iridescent brightness
Without edges,
A spear from the sky
Reaches down through cloud and dust
To dissipate across fields
Without end,
A rare shining on this evening's commute.
The clouds have become gobos -
Electrified rims graced with powdery light.
Trees and fields and hedges
Never before or since as alive,
Roll past my eyes through smeary pains,
Clean air, green foliage and white light,
A poultice.
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