GLASS BOX

Musings from a writer’s journal
October 2000
Snowy Mountain Mudd espresso kiosk

Ever sit within a box, glass on all four sides

and patiently watch the darkness relenting to sunrise?


The light lifts slowly and creeps through an army of syrup bottles,

penetrating their forms with relentless spears of warmth,

melting and painting sugary sweetness so that it illuminates,

its golden tenderness ready, the busy day awaits.


And there fall rainbows on the counter, on glass and metal both

merging and transforming them into more than just appliances:

now art, now a painting, strips of color across pitcher faces,

the sparkling reflections, multiplied and dancing over their spaces.


I sit in my glass box, the gentle hum of the world outside,

pausing to witness the becoming of this day.

I take in this sweet beauty, one of two moments of most divine light,

the azure-golden sunrise compared to the heated hues of twilight.


Capturing this precious hour is like hearing a favorite song,

in my Snowy Mountain Mudd Espresso kiosk: radiant filter for a glorious dawn.

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