I wake up to dancing dappled sunlight.
The sky has forgotten
last night's thunderstorm.
But not the mother bird
whose nest has fallen.
Yet seeds will sprout at that spot
among the knitted twigs
and broken egg shells.
Life moves from form to form.
I only need to sit back and
watch the play of illusions.
Like the playful sunbeams
dancing gaily on my face.
~~~ ~~~
