I have my chair turned to the window today—
a bright, breezy morning in September.
A low white cloud breathes out
a frosty fog-breath
that dissolves into wisps as it goes
sliding down the slope of a hill below.
Sunshine and breeze
strike the silver disco ball
hanging outside on the balcony,
sending spots and dots of light
dancing on floor, walls and ceiling
…those same dots tumbling
across the planter of
spiky, ruffled, rayed succulents
become strobed light as they go.
Just a little further down the hill
the grove of oak trees reflects
sunlight off dry, dusty leaves.
I look around—
how is it that light can reflect
off so many unlikely surfaces:
off dry, dusty leaves,
off matte black metal furniture,
off a column of rough slate.
off hinges painted many times over?
This morning, unlike almost always,
I do not have my head and
the sum total of my awareness
buried in emails, texts or headlines.
Instead, I am actually present
to contemplate this ricocheting
display of reflected light…
and I laugh because…
I am reflecting, too.
Image: Digital Collage by Ann Keiffer