Precious little moments
Strung together, one by one
Like popcorn chains on Christmas trees,
Like dress-up beads,
Or bubbles dancing in the sun.
They need little exposition
Just an inhale, a pause, a smile
There’s no simpler machine of insight
Than the filter of pure delight-
Joy is forthright
In all her wiles.
How quietly she rises-
No posterity screaming off the dark
She listens more than she speaks
I listen to her: I seek
Her beauty in the broken bleak
Waiting to embark
On popcorn strings
And the harmonies
Of love, and hope, and now.
viewingcamelot 