I fill a color-swirled,
artist-made glass
with water and ice
at the precise moment
I happen to be standing
in the exact spot
in my kitchen,
at the exact time of day
in the exact season of the year
when the sun is exactly
just, there, in the sky
over the skylight.
Unknowing,
I tip the glass
toward my lips
and all in an instant
the light through the skylight
hits the bottom
of my glass
bursting, shattering
in a bright mandala
of color,
spray-raying,
slaying me
with joy…
sunlight,
water,
ice,
sand,
fire,
glass,
glass blower,
neighbor
who gave me
the glass,
my eyes
perceiving
the Presence,
the Holy,
in beauty-disguise.
Ann Keiffer
June, 2014
