Temporary beauty

When the morning sun hits the silver faucet in our kitchen,
it lights up brilliantly.
Can you look at it safely? You cannot look directly into the sun
but you can look at the moon
and when you think about it, the moon achieves its
temporary beauty by reflecting the sun.
So, I guess it must be safe.
Sometimes I turn on the water and let it run to increase the spectacle.
Then I think of the recent water crisis in Cape Town and feel bad.
Maybe you know the feeling:
a mix of guilt and glee,
like fireworks or drinking special occasion wine on a Wednesday evening.
Besides, this isn’t Cape Town. It’s the Netherlands and
my bike cloth alone collects more water than Cape Town had all summer.
A bike cloth is an ordinary kitchen cloth.
I use it every morning after night rain and every evening after day rain.
A lot of water, but little beauty.
When I get back home tonight, the sun will be gone and the faucet will be
dull and ordinary again.
Mundane limescale and a family of unwashed dishes.
A wet cloth waiting to dry.
So, while it lasts I enjoy the magic of the silver faucet and the water
reflecting the dangerous morning sun, wastefully, beautifully.

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