Spell

I watch you

hold out your hands

and cup your fingers,

what you hold there

is invisible, with no

discernible weight

yet I know it’s there,

a handful of life, the

air we both breathe,

I notice your stare

with eyes wide open

in disbelief,

(it reminded

me of the first time you

plucked a ripe raspberry

from the garden canes),

before slowly letting

your fingers fan out

as if releasing a fairy

or a butterfly from your

grasp and with it that

brief fragment of magic

Published by grahamrsherwood