A poem by Michael Rattee from his 1986 book titled "Calling Yourself Home."
Reinventing Light
As a child I believed the birds
Reinvented light every morning
And during the day
It was slowly turned into ink
For the night to write stories with
I believed that until I was taught
It was all mechanics
And stories were written by people
Mostly older than ourselves
Some so old they couldn't be photographed
My teachers explained everything
But left the sadness out of it
That has remained with me
And this morning I watched the night
Run out of ink again and the birds
Come to inspect what was written
