Tuesday, 17 September 2019


My lawn was full of rhinestones this morning.
The sky was dark
The colour of indigo dye,
The colour of the dyer's fingers
After years of work in their trade,
Muted and vibrant
A paradox of hue that captivates the eye and the imagination at once.

I could see one star in my city sky,
Pale but present through the fog of cloud and morning mist.
The air was fresh.

Some blessings are time sensitive --
You must meet them when they are.
If you choose not to submit your where to their when
You will miss the magic of dew.

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