For Mother's Day my son brought me these petaled orbs of lipsticked orange. They alight delicious in the green vase next to the mug with flakes of gold glitter floating in its transparent body. I am one of those people whose brain never stops doing the dance of aesthetic possibility and projection. If I get lucky I am stopped by something that trumps my own internal circus.
It could be art, a bird (the grackles are so beautiful this spring!), a human, a fountain of emotion or just the dead stop of hallelujah.
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