Heiligenschein (or The Glory of Halos)

On a clear morning with dew on the grass,
Nearly spherical dew drops,
Focused and reflected back toward the sun
Along almost the same path that it took originally,
Retroreflected like memory.
But light doesn’t travel an exact path;
Spreads out just enough to be seen as bright white light
About your head on a damp lawn.

Sunlight enters the small water droplet,
Along its edge
Is refracted, then reflected
off the backside of the droplet.
If I could only remember her face,
                                                        her figure.

Light skims along the surface of the droplet,
A surface wave for a short distance.
Diffraction drops in off the edges of meniscus,
Blows the ring of light recast as glory and the brocken bow.
That split crescent descended to the floor,
Tipped an arrow into the dark, off-target.
Collecting my wits with a quiver,
I cast my spectre to the headlight of the moon.