The Dessert

A pale gold disk upon the porcelain plate,

Sunlight captured on a winter’s day,

A quiet promise that can compensate

For all the heavy clouds that block the gray.

A dusting like the dawn upon the snow,

Sweet powdered sugar melting on the tongue,

Then wakes the citrus, vibrant, sharp, and slow—

A sudden song of summer yet unsung.

The pastry crumbles, delicate and light,

A brittle shell that yields to something sweet,

And every lingering shadow takes to flight,

Making the broken afternoon complete.

So let the bitter winds outside confer;

Inside, this golden slice restores the heart.

The world is brightened, vibrant and astir,

With every hopeful bite of lemon tart.