Sunrise in the Mirror

I was taking pictures of one of the spectacular sunrises in Michigan last summer. 

When I turned around to go back to the house I saw 
the light caught in the Tundra's dewy mirror.

Fixing the Foot: On Rhythm

Yesterday I heard a Dutch doctor talking to a
small girl who had cut her foot, not seriously,
and was very frightened by the sight of her
own blood. "Nay! Nay!" he said over and over.
I cold hear him quite distinctly through the
wall that separated us, and his voice was strong
and calm, he spoke very slowly and seemed
never to stop speaking, almost as though he
were chanting, never too loud or too soft, Her
voice, which had been explosive and shrill at
first, gradually softened until I could no longer
make it out as he went on talking and, I sup-
posed, working. Then a silence, and he said,
"Ah" and some words I could not understand.
I imagined him stepping spryly back to survey
his work. And then another voice, silent before,
the girl's father, thanking him, and then the
girl thanking him, now in a child's voice. A
door opening and closing. And it was over.

Philip Levine

The Bread of Time; Toward an Autobiography
University of MIchigan Press, epigraph

Two of the Philip Levine books I ordered (don't have any here in Idaho) the day he died came today. I have been enjoying the revisit. And I felt lucky to find this at the beginning os one of them; it so perfectly expresses how open he was to the people he encountered. And I will be sure to remember to use a calm and measured voice should I ever need to.
Goodnight, sweet poet!