Bubbles

by Vanessa Proctor

We blow them in streams

across the yard,

some small and marble-sized,

others as big as baseballs.

Every bubble iridescent,

a perfect world of its own,

mirroring grass, sky,

occasionally our faces.

Bubbles glinting with sunlight

swirl skyward or

float to the ground.

Each one

a little miracle

before it pops.