Eclipse
Poetry
The morning sun lenses through my kitchen window, spearing my eyes-- and glaring off the computer screen, occulting my worldview until I don my Witch's hat, the one with the wide brim, that lets me see reality clearly so I can do my magic.
Thank you! The realists see the magic because they’re not squinting from the distortions of reflected media.
I need to borrow your Witch’s hat, here, the morning sun is too strong. Maybe we all need to.