I.
until today, i
thought reassigned time sounded
lovely. i was wrong.
II.
summer. dragonfly
hovers, dashes, drowsily
returns. suddenly
i rise, scalded air,
the baptismal waves scorching
redemption into
my lungs, forcing the
grace abandoned years ago
to surface, etching
myself onto my
own skin, iridescent, wing'd,
free...as summer breaks.
I know, this morning's "Reassigned Time" post is a narcissistic sulk-fest. I almost commented about it there, and then thought, well, why invade her perfect little hall of mirrors?
ReplyDeleteI'm gathering from Haiku #2 and your moniker that you are in the blazing midwest. Condolences.
why is dragonfly the perfect haiku word?
ReplyDeletelovely offering, greta!!!
Lovely, indeed. And it sounds like your weather is much like ours. May the heat wave, if not the summer, break soon.
ReplyDeleteDo you mean that it's not skin-meltingly hot all over the U.S.?
ReplyDeleteThank you, Terry and CC, for the kind words. I am tickled that you like my infrequent offerings. I don't think they resemble poetry in any way, but they seem to help me vent. (Seriously, I feel better after I've posted.)
And Terry--I love the word "dragonfly." To me, it embodies midsummer.
Lovely, dear Greta.
ReplyDeleteAlas, no, all is not parched.
*ahem* if I may:
Here on the Left Coast
There is a new summer month
Juliuary.
Great, Greta. Now I'm
ReplyDeleteThinking in 5-7-5
cadence. Thanks a lot.
Summer is not here.
The poor dragonflies done drowned.
Hate this freakin' rain.
Annie Oakley, your
ReplyDeletenew syllabic obsession:
my grand, evil plan.
(p.s. "The poor dragonflies done drowned" may be one of my favorite lines, ever.