A Brilliant Prism

Even now,

in this most inglorious season,

in the discomfort of it,

the cold, bright ugliness of its days,

the barren dark of the nights,

even now it can be found,

that moment of beauty,

seen by you

and only you

out of all the people in the world.

It hurts your heart

with its glory.

Sparkling and twinkling

and trembling,

it hangs there now, pendent

before your eyes,

perfect and rounded,

a brilliant prism

set in the grey gloom of the day,

containing all the world,

all the clouds and the sky

and the land

and you,

hanging there and

dangling and

gone.

And another

raindrop

falls.