A Poem by Jon Silvestri

she walks in beauty

The poet Byron once said
She walks in beauty
Like the night
And yes,
She is like the night

But more so 
like midday
In midsummer
When the light is
So bright it inundates
And overwhelms,
Leaving dogs panting
On the sidewalk
And helpless passerby
Squinting in a desperate
Hope and bliss,
Yearning for her rays
To seep through their pores
And leave them woozy with
Delight.

Yet even more 
A brilliant 
Supernova of white,
Blinding 
With sheerness
When it goes
And comes in a stream
Of pure energy, like
A trumpet and shout
That pulls souls from
The grave.

But you cannot say
She is only 
An explosion of brilliance,
A summer’s afternoon,
Heat and light.

 instead, perhaps
The fading glow of a winter
Sunset, a chill in the air
Warmed by purples,
Pinks and blues
That leaves the soul aching,

Or even the stillness of 
Crickets in the darkness
When the world has 
Silenced, 
And in sleep
She dims and quiets,
Preparing for her sunrise.