I have been wiping the clear lens on the right-hand side of a cheap pair of reading glasses and it still has a spot somewhere near the middle of my right eye. It is like looking through an opal. Somewhere there is a world of running rivers where the light has passed through jewels onto the rapids of the water breaking down rock. I have had a glimpse of it, an interruption, an optical splinter, or a bump in the road unseen except that the wagon shook and half the world suddenly opened around a crown of light. One eye at a time is all of how the bird sees me, and he can fly! So what if it's not the glasses, and maybe it's not an opal. Still the light has to go through something. And there's nothing perfect here that I know of. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org |