in the right light {a poem}

Next to the train tracks
that lead away from here
is a vacant lot
with a slight slope down
as if the ground itself
is poised
to hop the next train.

Straggly grass
Bare dirt
And a bunch of dandelions that are now
nothing but white fluff waiting
to be blown away from here:
the lot is not a place
you want to stay.

But when the pink of the morning sun
slips over the lot—
light so gentle you want to wrap yourself in it—

then

the dandelions become reminders to enjoy the beauty of the Every Day,
the bare dirt is about the earthiness of Possibility
the straggly grass is looking for Order.

In the right light, everywhere looks
like somewhere you want to be.