To the String Lights of Positano’s
A Poem by Danielle Page
Beaming across the dimmed Tuesday crowd
A halo of haphazard cleaning gleams
The dust settled thick on the bulbs
Slightly swaying from industrial ventilation,
The proof of a trend our children will certainly
Shutter, the glow tinted with soft gray down
Illuminates a cautious nature, looking for
Darkness, for neglect, as if trust should
Not be lavished until utterly diminished
As if dust cannot be banished with
A gentle stroke and light restored
By a single breath taken toward it