Sparkling. Sparkling wine (no, only the non-alcoholic stuff). Sparkling water (no, can’t stand it). Sparkling conversation (not tonight, I’m too tired). Sparkling wit (see above).
The lights our neighbours have in their tree? No, those twinkle rather than sparkle. Same for the stars, not that you can see them tonight. Candles glow. Our Christmas tree isn’t decorated yet. I suppose I could show you any one of several pairs of earrings, including the ones I’m wearing now (miniature stockings, with a sparkly trim). But what would I say about them?
Sparkling. Sparkling implies movement. It implies that something is reflecting light without necessarily producing it. And this feels rather reassuring. I am not called upon to produce something from nothing, merely to reflect back what is already coming my way. Nor do I have to move all that much. No sustained effort, just going with the flow.
Raindrops on green leaves, a barely perceptible breeze, a bright light in the darkness. That’s the closest to sparkling I can get tonight.