Refraction Poem by Graham Stone

I see not physics in my glass.
I know no equations or angles,
Nor technical terms for what I see.

I see only the beauty and feel only the warmth,
As the crystal refracts the wine in the light,
A hundred warm splinters of deep red
spread across my walls,
chasing one another in flight,
With the slow sweet swirls of my monotonic gestures.
I smell the subtle sweet scent, and the comforting fog
clouds about in my head.