One Tiny Cup




Certainly I am here—
but the wind blows,
and I am only dancing lights
shimmering on the surface
of the water.

What then can hold
the miracle of being
inside this single
tiny cup?

Am I not most glorious
when thrown into the sky,
back to the wind
and the bird’s beak,

and the morning glory’s eye—
to behold you
and all things,

Mirror reflecting mirror,
eye beholding
eye?