Enraptured,
I watch
while a tiny spark
dances upon my window pane.
An ethereal courier,
a messenger emerging
from the void of darkness.
In nights now past
and tonight again
it dances, pirouettes,
forming arcs and lines
upon the gla**.
Arcs and lines,
meaningless runes in the beginning;
but of their composite,
as blades of gra** form a meadow,
the beginning of an image
forms before my mind's eye.
An image
with the dawning in her hair
and the seas in her eyes.