A Thousand Suns Swirl And Drift Away

[aesmael]

This morning, early morning for once, I go to let the dog out. My hands are wet and the sun is newly risen; dew twinkles everywhere it can. I raise one hand to shield my eyes from the sunlight and what do I see? It looks as though I am smoking, burning in the light. But of course I am not burning. It is - I think it is - moisture boiling off my hand and recondensing in the cold air of a winter morning. I see the little droplets swirl and flow like water stirred or a flock of tiny birds. I see a dozen minute, momentary rainbows flashing in my little cloud.