A Miracle for Breakfast

Each morning, looking out upon the roof tops, shining ever white in the rising light, the sun’s narrow fingers settle on each turn of the spiral along every branch, every twinkling blossom, while the lost sun, wonders, searching within it’s high glass cage and keeping peering down, at the pause of chance and wonder, as each glimmer of detail hangs weightless and unnoticed.

• Elizabeth Bishop

• Elizabeth Bishop