four incandescent bulbs
strung from the tree canopy
provided the only light needed
to see our bubble bordered by a fence:
too high to look over
but not high enough to block the sounds.
time spent watching the bulbs
sway in the wind
shiver in the snow
sing in the rain
passed…
four became three as one filament,
a delicate filament strung perfectly
and wound carefully,
burst into sparks
with one brittle touch
as one does in these times