A Sweet, Sweet Thing
A Poem

Sometimes we glimpse something close to normal or simply manage to forget. Then the tension slips away, and thought wanders off, free to notice what seems almost forbidden — quiet, elusive:
the magic of twilight, that hovering half-darkness between the first fireflies of summer; the secret, unwritten poetry that echoes in the chambers of the heart; the power of passion.
And oh, in those few stolen moments we take a great, slurping bite of this world — the juice dribbles down our chins, sticky and slow as syrup, reminding us tenderly, dangerously, lovingly, that it is a sweet, sweet thing to be alive.






