Faint grazes to the window of my shelter
And little dinks
The vestige of some tiny siege against the glass
Lichen-blotches to the same
And the tracks of insects or plants that sometime clung here
When the morning sun found its angle through the arboreal dark
The trees were lit like a cathedral interior
And flung their glitchy patterns onto me
Incubating in that cell
My humanity developed like a photograph
Until I could see it in the glass
Eclipsing what I had been into a radiant outline