My tongue felt heavy with the dew blue
of a sheltered wave
I’ve sat long on this log waiting to give it life
Yesterday a dragonfly came down
rested on my lap and asked me to help
find it’s story
I’d first have to understand mine
maybe the same way fingers unravel to count stars
the night easily getting lost and
forgetting itself amongst them
Oh! how easy it becomes to write
a loose voice begins to plea
“I am here!”
how plentiful do the poems rush in
under this fright
