White wine, liquid
streaming from the pitcher to the cup:
every dribble a whisper
and every swirl a sigh.
Sit back and inhale
the scent of sweet honeysuckle,
as your eye catches the gleam
of sunrise wisping over the horizon,
golden rays streaming
across green grasslands, a marriage
of earth and sky.
Could you care to contrive
an excuse to ignore what your eye sees?
Sit here between one dream and another,
teetering on the edge of eternity.
Steal a moment from the morning
and keep it close to the chest,
between cupped hands. Stars
cannot survive in sunlight;
they drown.
But keep the white-blue gleam
covered in darkness,
and you will soon see
bits of silver escaping
from between the fingers.
Morning rises and passes in a breath,
but a moment—a moment lasts for as long
as you are willing to give.
Sit here, in fuchsia and silence.
~~~
Photo by Xuan Nguyen on Unsplash