Myriad Things

A single pond lily, on which

Dragonfly

Alights.

An anthropologist of sorts,

She studies

Me.

I’m no

Entomologist,

But I admire

Her. Where has she been in her brief,

Stunning

Life?

Will she be found in fossil form far in

Future?

Wings etched in limestone?

**

The word, beauty.

To many, many myriad things.

A kitten with amber eyes,

An amber necklace with a message,

Eeons old.

A tree of life that speaks a different language,

That maybe mourns lost

Friends.

Desert sands, artifacts revealed when

Wind moves dunes.

**

I wish a long dead author’s ghost to visit me,

Lord Byron, Emily Dickinson,

Tolstoy, Balzac.

How did they do it? The secrets and beauty of their minds.

Painters,

Monet,

Degas,

Renoir.

Was it Absinthe? The wine?

**

A bluebird in watercolor,

A painted bunting in pastels,

A raven in pen and ink,

Queen Anne’s Lace in amber.

Write, sketch, study so I remember.

So my ghost can tell

The Stories

**