Shards of Light and Moon Rings

I was walking along, the sun high in the sky, and I squinted at the pieces of sunshine that resided on the sidewalk in front of me. Slivers of silver and shattered red seemed to have fallen from above and landed there, piercing my eyes with blinding white light. But they weren't drops of molten sun at all. They were shards of glass--a broken Christmas bobble, perhaps. There the pieces rested, reflecting the sunlight from below, leaving dancing green and purple spots on my eyes. The brightness they held was the kind you long to contain somehow--to put into your mind and keep it there for those dark days where white light is exactly the sort of thing you need to brighten your frown or evaporate your tears...or perhaps do the same for someone else. If light could heal wounds, those shards would have been medicinally perfect--an ideal perscription for any light-less day.
But light is not kept--it is simply experienced. And light is not only for day. The other night, I walked with friends along a darkened street, the woods around us stretching upwards to form a night-time tunnel of black branches silhouetted against the moonlit sky. But the moon was not alone in the sky. Nor were the stars. Encircling the moon was a ring of shadow-light, almost as if the clouds had learned how to keep brightness in one place, geometrically unblemished.

Overhead it looms;
Ring around the moon;
Brilliant faded circle rounds the light.

Off the silent creek
Flow reflected beams.

Living comes so soon;
Intangible yet Right,
Full and Real and Bright,
Eternal soul that gleams.

(There's some attempted poetry for you, if you like. Something simple and full of meaning for whoever would see it there or put it there.)

For a scientific explanation of moon rings (halos), go to http://home.hiwaay.net/~krcool/Astro/moon/moonring/