Luminescence

The sun dissolves the fog in long, thin fingers, revealing the spiderweb suspended between fence posts— each strand a crystalline thread catching fire.

A bird moves through the garden without sound, its shadow moving faster than its body, arriving places the bird has not yet reached.

The light you held yesterday is gone. Today's light tastes like copper and wet stone. Tomorrow you will not recognize yourself in it.

But here—now—the ordinary lawn becomes strange, becomes a field of emerald glass, and you are learning the names of things you thought you already knew.