Glitter

Sundays are for ice cream...

Photo by Maddy Meng on Unsplash

(Nighttime journalism)

Assuming I am not lying;
presuming I know truth when I see it,
it’s still very dark out here.
I fear. 

Yet…scattered light like ash from
last year’s fires 
startles me with tiny
clarity and 
non-essential (surely this is wasteful!) 
purity.

Not enough to cut the night in two
but maybe twenty million
little embers;
little bright eyes -
tiny stars that hit the ground and shattered -
old as God’s first whiskers shaved and
swept to Earth as if they didn’t matter.

I can’t see by their soft silvery fluorescence
yet here they are cascading light into the night
as if they make a difference.

It’s ineffective from a certain logical perspective
but, 
the crunchy disarray of elements
arranged as careless firmaments upon the ground
seems crowned with
some
external (to a human’s mind)

significance.

I carry on bemused and wondering - 
this night is cold and long but
still

it’s somehow slightly 

glimmering.

~ Lynn Lundell, ©2026