Prisms in the Morning Sun

A wandering ray of morning light drew me up toward the high, broad wooden windowsill. There, suspended from a slender silver wire, hung a cut-glass crystal quietly turning in the draft. As the sun struck its facets, a constellation of tiny, vivid rainbow specks scattered across the painted sill and wall. I lifted my star wand toward the glass, letting the tip barely graze one of the cut edges. It swung with the softest, faint chime, setting all the scattered points of color gliding smoothly over the wood like stars across a morning sky. I simply stood beside it, watching the quiet drift of light.