there
is
so
much,
magic
in
the
motes
of
light,
limed
dust,
that
dance
in
windblown
ecstasy,
before
my
sl­oe
lidded
eyes,
as
i doze
in
the
sunkissed
study,
of
my
much
blessed
house,
so
that
is­
why
i
smile,
while
dozing,
utterly
and
blissfully,
content
in
my­
very
own
fairytale.