Or, less quaint, raindrops hanging on leaf tips
With magnifying glass, each bead is huge,
a perfect globe of an overturned world
bright with trees,
houses, my neighbor’s parked car, parted clouds,
all temporal now that the sun warms them
Give these light-filled planets one more hour
if in no other way than in the words I’ve picked
their glassy beauty on this winter night.
that spent hour in a far April. Forecast:
trace of snow.
Now: sharp clear sky, an ornate quilt of stars.
ice grains have ferried me back to that far
those bejeweled sun-struck glisters on bamboo.
I rummaged high and low, emptying all
the desk drawers
for the scratched, thrift store magnifying glass.
to see inside, up-close, the brilliance of
to observe, first-hand, time in the process