Dragonfly !

Weeding at
 six forty-five
A.M. and already
I am perspiring.
Little rivers tickle down my back and face, mixing with the citronella I
bathed in,  before venturing into mosquito territory.  There is a sparrow
singing
in the cherry tree, serenading  early risers.  I sweat and remind
myself that  all this bending will keep me young, allegedly. I spot
a dragonfly
on the bee balm
right next to my leg.
Breath skips out
of me.  Now
he flies,
spins,
thin
as a
whis
per,
land
ing
on a
shoe,
resting
from
what
ever it
is a
dra
gon
fly
d
o
e
s
!

 

Published 7/14 –  Bards Annual 2014 – a Poetry Anthology 

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