2021/8/18 #poetry The light seemed to curve over the edge of the rock, turning downward as it fell into the water. In the air, white-grey flecks lit up in the spill of beams. Some flying, some floating, some falling. The new day had yet to warm up, and many tiny winged creatures were yet safe from the larger beasts that lived in the heat. Higher above, dancing mists start to tumble faster as the light pierces them. Their edges merging into the surrounding air as they boil away. New stronger flows of wind begin to buffet them, to fold them. The clouds capitulate, uncaring, used to constant change.