At the Breakfast Table.

For a moment
a lovely pattern
inside my sugar bowl
caught my attention.

And then it had gone,
had shifted.

The dark sugar grains
slid
into something far more
ordinary,
more everyday,
simply utilitarian.

Something to make use of.
To dissolve without thought.

Quietly I sip my coffee
and wonder what strange
rare beauty
died to make this moment.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
May 1st. 2017.