In the freshness of the forest
I like to think
there are beings of light
especially after a rain
dancing in the green scented air
some call them aberrations
of the digital age
but I think them not unlike
the perception
of fleeting flecks of light
seen against an empty sky
I marvelled at as a child
and was flatly told they were floaters on the eye
floaters they are not
rather they speak to me still
decades later
in hushed whispers
of the mystifying mystery
of the air we breathe
and the light we see
everyday without thinking.
MOONSIDE 
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