Optic
Soft stripes make
a sky: pretty blue, fleecy white.
Sun disc blazing,
hazed, a white-hot dilation in an icebow iris.
This halo is made
from sunrays, teeming through frosted crystals in the cotton folds of cirrus
cloud.
Backlight blurs
the edges of the boundary trees; it is called bloom, this excess of brightness.
Mid-sky, dropped
under the sun, appears a smudged oval of rainbow colours, like a clumsy
thumbprint: a thing unknown.
I jot a note,
amazed, but busy, I forget.
Evening comes, icy
dark and sparkling; time to settle in and refer to notes and fuss at the
internet to find a word. I don't fix on one; only infer an explanation of
sun-glare refraction through a specific angle of ice crystal.
A partially formed
circumzenithal arc, perhaps? This arc turns upwards,
fully formed, is called 'the smile in the sky.'
An elliptical
beam: exultant surprise.
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