Silver beams pierce the night like arrows in flight.
It is not dark –
there not an absence of light,
only a surfeit of perception.
A glow travelling through time,
Dusting the earth.
Lighting on the ordinary,
the every day,
Wet washing lines become midnight diamond necklaces,
damp roofs sheets of polished gold,
cresting waves are dressed with strings of glistening pearls
while gentle halos bedeck those the light rests upon.
In the light,
by the light,
focus falls on other things, the light itself all to quickly overlooked
unobserved as it draws our observations to other things.
Making all things touched by it the most precious of all.