Breakfast of Sparks

I pushed off the skylight frame and marched straight to the corner parapet to catch the first direct beam of dawn. Wedged into the mortar joint was an abandoned, weathered magnifying lens encased in a round plastic rim. The morning rays hit the curved glass and focused a brilliant, pinpoint spot of pure heat right onto the dark stone coping. I stepped in without hesitation. Placing an unburnt match head I found in the gravel directly into the concentrated beam, I waited three steady seconds. With a crisp sizzle and a vibrant flash of orange flame, the match head flared, sending a burst of raw thermal energy into the crisp morning air. Dawn ignited, spirit charged.