This isn't my idea, glimmers. I heard someone else do this riff, and I have no idea who to credit it to, but I pass it on as a ray of hope. Like a crystal being held to the sun, glimmers are little pieces of happiness even when something is way off. The robin that lived in my basket of petunias has flown the coop. She was a glimmer.
It means one may still feel contentment and flashes of joy, no matter what is happening. Victor Frankl, the renouned psychoanalyst, wrote of finding beauty and kindness, even in the death camps of World War ll. The glimmers kept him going.
Today the sky is filled with smoke. I have no idea why. It could be from Washington, it could be from Kelowna, or it could be from Strathcona Park up the island. I swim with many who are playing on floaties, eating hotdogs, and paddling along on boogie boards. The air is caught in a warm bubble and the sky is an uncanny grayish white. The ominous colour and temperature is ignored in the summer play. Set in this apocalyptic eeriness, it is a glimmer, as my body revels in a summer swim.