Slender tendrils of day
Have already crept down the mountain,
And like kudzu are covering
Everything above ground
with a suffuse radiance.
Not even the swift moving can escape it —
Shadows give only partial protection:
Babies fair skin can be sunburned
In dappled shade that cannot match
The pitch black of night.
In this case, rolling stones
Do gather moss-like gleams
Until they roll to the dark side of the world.