Crushed mint in my fingers
the hedges spaced for slivers of sunlight
The wind in the palms and the rustle of the dead
fronds
draped over wires
too attached to let go even when yanked
hanging
a dragonfly sits for minutes
on the tip of a lemon branch
its heart in its transparent, webbed wings.
10 comments:
Yes, please.
"its heart in its transparent, webbed wings"
Oh, Elizabeth.
The crushed mint got me .... And the hedges spaced for slivers of light. You captured a moment of time in just a few words.
Lovely poem.
And you are the spitting image of... ME.
You know what, Elizabeth? This poem grabbed my heart and softened the edges of it.
"too attached to let go even when yanked."
that's me today. love you.
hope your tomorrow is better.
I'm a dude who laughs at fart jokes, so I don't actually get it...things are bad right? That sucks.
Lots of love and good vibrations are being hurled your way as I type this. I'm hoping I don't hit a fault line or anything...
You take a Joan Crawford-day and create such delicate beauty out of it. That's just what you do.
oh...
just oh...
you've said it all... with this delicate tracery of words.
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