Magic Potion


Photo credit: hlkljgk via / CC BY-SA

A storm of steam rises
in arabesques from my coffee cup.
Curls and loops soar.

In a ray of sunlight,
exuberant spirals
and dizzy mobius strips
dance in rolls
and pulses.

Entwined ribbons unfurl,
fold, lift,
sink to the heat
with a cold breath of air,
but rise again.

Billows of silk,
bitter and sweet, escape
in waves of sublimation.

In this glorious sunbeam,
a powder of light,
a barely-there gold galaxy
stretches outward
then dissipates
in blue shade.

Blissful awareness now,
pale memory next,
then wishful attention…

But the wonder ends
when the sun hides
and the coffee tepid.

Yet I still drink the potion
of leftover magic.

swirls by Zani

Posted in Life, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 19 Comments