light is glimpsing out from its winter shell,
spreading brightness as a trapdoor falls.
It’s 5.15 pm in a snowy Tuesday
gloaming that is diligent and tender.
Trash is piled beneath empty train seats
and, outside, a river turns West to salt.
Birds and wind drop to quiet evening sun
and, on, our train plunges into a tunnel
blacker than a night has ever known
but knowing, also, light advances, grows.