Sunday, June 13, 2010

On Sunny Sunday's


Delight

A cloud caught hold of the morning's light and walks
about proudly among his fellows: the child
who's caught the most fireflies fluttering within
his folded fingers; he carries them close to his chest.

The cloud came to me privately and asked
if I wanted to see his catch--his prize.
He opened slowly his closely clasped hands
And like a grin the golden dawn danced out.

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