Night in day

I was walking home, the mid-noon sun bearing down on me. There was light everywhere and suddenly I was reminded of this poem by Joseph Stroud.


Night in Day

The night never wants to end, to give itself over
to light. So it traps itself in things: obsidian, crows.
Even on summer solstice, the day of light’s great
triumph, where fields of sunflowers guzzle in the sun—
we break open the watermelon and spit out
black seeds, bits of night glistening on the grass


Read this almost a decade ago but it still speaks to me.

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