Splendor

The other day,

while far away from

home, I thought about

writing a poem,

called splendor.

The word had somehow

become a running faucet

in my brain, it’s meaning spilling

over into the new cool nights

with the sky a velvet darkness above

glistening with a million

and

one stars.

It seemed to sum

up the current stream

life had become; Splendor.

It sounded wet and ran

cold over life, effortlessly

over the rocks and crags

along the way.  Around

one’s own eddies

and pools.

It reminded me

of the veiled shadowy

smile I’d seen somewhere.

One I’d thought could

run cool and refreshing over

my body, like splendor.