All’s still beside the pond.
I’m lost in my surrounds
Until a damsel fly alights
Upon an Arum lily
A sapphire tail illumes
My veil oflassitude.
Such interludes, such simple acts,
Recall the hidden music
Of my soul. Below the sleepy
Surface tadpoles wriggle
Below my consciousness,
Words and phrases bristle
Along the cortex of my brain.
There’s no respite from visuals,
The sharp demands to beauty.
Poets know compelling duty
And if I moan in irritation,
It is a useless gesture.
The picture has to grow
And like a child birth
Gather its momentum.
To A Damsel Fly
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