FINN

Eight minutes to race from sun to ocean. Refracted from blue, scintillate prism. Disperses, dazzles the vision. But wonder who

catches glint, scent in faint traces. Light, sound, smell each have their places. Noticed, like a shot I slipped, sought. Snapped, devoured—away I went.

A poem for Finn, Noun #47 from nouns.wtf. Not affiliated with nouns.wtf. Big thanks to SharkDao for funding this piece.