The morning sunlight darts a greeting through
the air, catching the ruby sweetness as
it flies refractingly across the dew
to shimmer through the hanging flower of glass,
then blurring into feathers on the bands
of the half-spread venetian blinds until
it hovers for a heartbeat, and then lands
with the tiniest oscillating thrill,
here on the table, humming silently
and sipping now the gold from a red crescent
pooling of light that touches us and gives
a nectar luminous and iridescent,
inviting us to taste what we can see,
reminding us that light, within us, lives.
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