Light

I like light.
I like the beauty of it, and the way it brings beauty to other things.
There is no day more pleasant to me than a cool day, with a gentle breeze, where the sun shines down unhindered onto green grass, giving it a vividness it would never know by itself.
Today, on my walk, I saw a leaf fallen upon the ground.
It was mundane, perhaps: a leaf, discarded by a tree in preparation for winter.
The light made it beautiful.
It shone through its surface, reflecting and piercing at the same time, giving the red leaf a gemlike quality — making it more than it was: a dying-dead construct of cells and cellulose.
Maybe, in the right light, anything can be more than it is.
Maybe, it the right light, anything can be beautiful.