The light spins round.
Refracted squares dance across window, walls.
Like seeds scattered by birds, chirping, the squares scatter, out of grasp.
Myriad. Brilliant. Momentary. Whisps of glory cast about. Elusive.
What draws me to such?
This fleeting light, careening?
Is it the thoughts of Fairies flitting hither and yon?
Or the beauty of rainbows unmasked upon my wall?
My eye is drawn to the source, an empty receptacle, swaying in the breeze.
Light streams upon it and is broken. Into tiny bits. And refracted squares dance.
And the glory. It scatters.
Could I be such?
An empty receptacle?
Reflecting light, that capers upon hearts?
The light spins round once more and I smile, knowing.
And refracted squares frolic.