[return to Contents Page]

Paul Hunter

One

This afternoon I watched a delicate filament of thread dance and spin gently before the window. It floated, slowly rising and falling, on thermal currents from the baseboard heater. Some moments it would vanish as it passed over the border of curtain shadow and returning, reappear as the sunlight once again defined it. This performance lasted only a minute or two but stayed with me for the rest of the day, dancing on and on with the sun upon its back. Who knows how many such rides the sun takes daily?

warm afternoon —
free from worries
of this and that