What You Tell Me, I Learn From a Dragonfly

As I flit around the room
half-dressed, half in love,
half-cocked about the cares
of another workaday day,
you stop time &say it,
All I see is you.
I dismiss it.
Insist on vacuuming.
After you leave, it happens
that I encounter a blue damselfly
flitting, flitting, then landing
&everything within me loves it
&all its see-throughness!
Then, it’s strange to see
my own hand reaching out
to gently take it as my own.
I don’t know why.
But you know what?
For the longest while,
lavender wings &lapis eyes
are all I care to think about.

for Real Toads


18 thoughts on “What You Tell Me, I Learn From a Dragonfly

  1. Nice writing, Angie. I think that I know this one. When there’s been a turnoff it’s hard to back up and turn things back on. But watch, I know. Dogs die, dragonflies have a much, much, shorter lifespan than they.

  2. Shortly before my late husband died, we agreed that dragonflies would be his signal to me afterwards, when he was around. And so they have been, turning up in appropriate ways, times and places. Your poem is a lovely reminder to me as well as you. 🙂

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