October 11, 2016

the dragonfly at your knee

You have to be still to see it, perhaps a glass of red wine nearby,
or David Sedaris stories in your lap, the burble of a river at your feet. The children
from the local school will have not yet passed by in their kayaks, and you
will have not made the grocery run or even written the list for dinner. Instead,
you'll be tilted slightly back in your green plastic chair, as if leaning into time itself,
and the warmth on your knees from the afternoon sun will become the briefest
of invitations, a landing spot for a creature that tends to busy itself with errands
you cannot begin to understand. But there you'll be, away from the frenzy of your lives,
waiting - without realizing it - for the other to stop moving. It won't last long,
your little communion, but it will be enough. You'll remember this day forever.