I think of how the narrow blue bodies
of the dragonfly ancestors
once skimmed clear lakes—
over a hundred million years
before the great diplodocus
came to wade—
how they flew through the Permian,
the Cretaceous, through mornings,
through meteors, through floods,
through to the Holocene, to now.
How much change they have seen
before coming to balance here
on the reeds beside me,
their bodies like thin blue proofs
of resilience, endurance, constancy.
Meanwhile, the sun is disappearing
below the horizon.
Meanwhile this heart, too,
is learning to adapt, to become
something as surprising as beauty
that survives great challenge,
something as durable, as delicate
as gossamer wings.
Happy Birthday, Suzi! This one’s for you!!!
Posted this poem on Brooke Williams’s FB page.
And silly you—the heart already IS:
something as surprising as beauty
that survives great challenge,
something as durable, as delicate
as gossamer wings.
Love you, by the way.
amen!! already is!
Here’s Brooke’s reply:
I love this. Might not have otherwise seen it. Thanks.
Admire the way you so beautifully brought the Permian
Cretaceous period into the moment. Beautiful!
here they are, folding in on us as we fold out …