It's Still Life

A Solstice Light

Winter solstice morning in Miami. 7:03am. The sun cuts the clouds. A sliver chases away darkness from where it hides. Below chairs. Under beds. Below bedsheets. This divine light brings me joy.

Coffee on the balcony. 9:35am. White candle lit. I recite, all by memory. Eyes closed to noise. Morning traffic. There’s a bird in the bald cypress tree. A sharp as snipped tin chirp, it sings.

Black vultures circle above the building. 10:12am. They eat anything. Rubber is their first choice. My candle’s flame still burns. A breeze tries and fails to extinguish it. Tries again. And fails.

Bacon. Coffee. Fried potatoes and eggs. 10:35am. I write a friend; send a solstice gift. It’s a small thing of huge importance. Its value is not monetary. I am porous. Fluid. Forever.

This is a day of rebirth. 4:57pm. Relit by divine consequence. We are dream weavers as we are the dreams. It’s only broken by morning light. This is one flame I’ll never extinguish.

Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2023.