Stained glass windows, technicolor hues
irridescent in the glowing light 

rainbow clouds woven into 
the dying embers of dusk 

the shades of orange the world is reduced to
in the final flow of the golden hour 

a field filled with high flying kites 
dancing in the music of the wind
the echoes of laughter below floating them higher

the audible crispness of a old book’s binding 
held too firm for too long on a forgotten shelf 
a sigh of relief at being opened once more 

the smell of wildberry muffins wafting 
into the hearth of the home on a lazy 
morning, infusing the air with intoxicating sweetness

these are the things that revive me 
when the world works hard to wear me down