Nothing as delicious
As the idea’s arrival
At the pen scratch
And nib of newly unfolded time.

Here is creativity
At its cutting edge.
New and fresh as dew
At risen light,

As momentary
And transitorily alive,
For a spell’s duration,
Before soon subsided

And dimmed by
Pristine light’s creation
And the joy of thoughts,
Freshly Pressed.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.