Through the Prism

I walked slowly across the smooth wooden sill toward a heavy glass vase left near the morning light. As the sun reached the edge of the glass, clear bands of color split across the white paint beneath my feet. I knelt gently and stretched out one crystalline hand, letting a sliver of pale violet and gold rest across my palm. The light felt cool and quiet. When I tilted my fingers, the colors fractured into tiny scattered beams across the wall. I stayed there for a long time, watching them drift.