Flat, splat water in the golden bowl
Pouring out over my table, and
Covering my breakfast in a shimmer.
I was eating plums when the bowl overfilled,
Leaving me standing ankle deep.
When you go back over your words and see them leap out at you it’s time to give them an airing. I wrote these when I realised that joy is a real presence.
I am no poet, but this snippet just gives me goosebumps still.