The Perfect Circle Of The ‘Everyday’

The perfect circle of the ‘everyday’
arches up, over and around
so light can eternally meet
the join of dark.

The empty glass fills
and empties
with unnerving constancy.

There is a rhythm beyond us,
behind us and far ahead.

A calm conductor
points their baton
poking measure into the corners
of each section of the overture of time,
freeing tiny silver triangles from
forwards momentum
of hours, minutes and seconds.

I go here to dig beneath the surface,
spending time raking around in those shapes,
aware of the sound of metal on tarmac.

Because this is where the magic lies.

I always know it when I see it.