Meager Measure

I wish to place my meager measure with the legions of the sun, with apple blooms and larks festooning empty fields of light. I wish to add my balance to the weight of butterflies whose beauty does not bruise the bush nor wings diminish skies. How fragilely the scales are set when one pale part of moon on snow can trip the ballast of the eyes and catapult the heart. I go to place my meager measure on the sundial at high noon when shadow bowls are shallowest and spoons most filled with light.

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