mirrored evening

I'm reading Mary Ruefle's Madness, Rack and Honey. She 
has said she gave these lectures in order to learn about poetry.
I met her once. She was sweet, smart and kind of spacey in a good
way. The essays are like that too. The first one is a long
investigation on poetry and the moon. At the end she quotes
Maurice Blanchot on light, which is something I spend a lot
of time thinking about.

Repose in light can be--tends to be--peace through light,
light that appeases and gives peace; but repose in light
is also repose--deprivation of all external help and impetus--
so that nothing comes to disturb, or to pacify, the pure
movement of the light...Repose in light: is it sweet
appeasement through light? Is it the difficult deprivation
of oneself and of all of one's own movement, a position
in the light without repose? Here two infinitely different
experiences are separated by almost nothing.

Yesterday on the evening of the fall equinox the light on the lake
was there and not there and it was difficult to know where to look.