settling the dragonfly
She is delicate
on upturned fingertips,
a tentative murmur of
advancing and receding
blue, an iridized whirr
in moon flight.
She seeks an open palm,
thumbs that never press
or pin; hands that consider
her delicate wings.
A home with no walls,
no doors to close.
Love is not a portal.
1 comment:
a tentative murmur of advancing and receding blue
Oh my. Allow me to exclaim... God, that is exceptionally beautiful!
an iridized whirr in moon flight.
And that just promptly surpassed what vocabulary I know of to refer to beauty...
Thank you for this. It has been the highlight of my usual trips from one poetry blog to another. ^_^
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