inbetween the drops of water
a juggler could tell you about the beauty of a ball when it arcs through the s p a c e upward before the descent pause defying gravity or its immediate fall all that momentum skilled curve from the hand forgotten under the sun, it is almost invisible for a second hangs onto that space between the d r o p s o f w a t e r life continues to whirl going around in a loop sometimes upward the other times downward and sometimes im weightless a perfect pause a graceful cusp point beauty of an arc existing knowing for just a split second i hang free in spaces between the drops of water a silvery projectile