Sunny mornings that disco ball atop
my daughter’s large living-room rock fireplace
captures light through double windows stretching
from floor to high-beam ceiling, turning cream
walls to a jeweled gallery: glowing
flecks morphing to flakes of geometries
varied as universe. Flower blossoms
and spheres the size of golf balls, rectangles,
diamonds, shining slits like distant UFOs.
Blossoms transfiguring to angels’ heads
and wings. This happens just after 8 am.
Sitting, sipping herbal tea, we contemplate.
She considers moving the Moser lithograph
from the mantle’s aesthetic clutter.
By 9 am our wall gallery is gone, narrowed
to a bright path stretching across tan-colored
carpet and soft-striped throw rug.
Roger Armbrust
December 21, 2017
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