It happens in that minute before official sunrise in the air that is almost spring but yet has winter living in it for a few more weeks with the sky high and unclouded and the rain due not for today a star flicks one last time and the edges of the tops of the houses out my kitchen window just begin to pink if I squint my eyes just so and it is only a minute no longer that the light this light that isn’t yet light skips into my heart down to my gut and further on into my toes before traveling licketty-split back the long way up into my head and lifts me to the place that can only be described with words as joy
runon: here too; that light~
