© TaeHun Yoon, 1998

The sky came clear—
honest, unhurried,
as if it had nothing left to confess.

Birdsong mended the hollow night,
each note a small flame
hung trembling in the dark.

And God—becoming heart,
pulse, breath—
moved through the morning
with a tenderness so precise
it almost hurt.

Everything I saw
was too narrow for what I felt.

So the mist, white and weightless,
rose to carry it—
and the world,
for a moment,
was full.

• Heckscher State Park on Long Island, NY.