Turning toward the chopper's sound, I see
a dragonfly on my shoulder.
And so
the message is not
dragged through the heavens,
but rests, instead, on my back--
lighter than sensation, filling
the softest edge of sight.
a dragonfly on my shoulder.
And so
the message is not
dragged through the heavens,
but rests, instead, on my back--
lighter than sensation, filling
the softest edge of sight.
Thank you for the moment of this poem. And here's to surprises!
ReplyDeleteTo surprises! :)
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