Archive 08/15/09 - (1)

   

Dragonfly Hour

                                                                  

For the last hour, on the end of this narrow dock,

I've watched the same three dragonflies —

Their double sets of wings intricately laced, iridescent —

Lighting and lifting, lighting again, drifting away, lighting,

Jostled by a heady, refreshing wind.

 

Like these exquisitely delicate insects, now resting

(Which seem about to be blown away, at any second),

I bask in the sun's revitalizing radiance,

Refuse to admit that my existence is fragile, ephemeral,

Rather glory in this hour of being here, now,

 

Asking nothing more, nothing less, than to be left to my wiles,

Dedicated to the premeditated pursuit of relaxation,

Between the routine tribulations survival requires,

For the stay fate has allotted us, today.

Husbanding time is what these dragonflies and I do best.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                               

 

08/15/09 - (1)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
       

 

 
   
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