“Liquid silver falls from the skies
Drop
by
Drop
Squeezed from the darkness above
Drops become a flowing silver river
Winding around the bend or hung on a string
Frozen in time.
A snapshot.
Gently slipping, tumbling down
But joins the mass eventually.
The darkness breaks.
Light spurts out.
Like moonlight on the water
Its golden glow illuminating
a delicate cobwebbed path
Bursting forth on the damp ground
As though its been freed, trapped before
Like a caged bird, now allowed to be free.”
Accalia smith 