Golden sunlight pours through the windows.
Late on an Autumn afternoon.
It warms my skin where it oozes over me.
Like bright honey it slides over and around everything in sight.
My limbs move slowly as if the thickness affects me.
Its buttery warmth begins where it touches my skin, and slowly spreads.
It stops suddenly only where it meets cool shadow.
The cool, sharp shadows that bind and contain it.
Those hard pockets of inkiness hold the soft spread of warmth at bay.
One cannot exist without the other.
The flowing brightness must be contained.
Those hard likes only come next to the warmth.
It’s quiet beauty, watching the two shimmer and swirl.
They dance their waltz on everything in sight.