A petal of jasmine caught up
by the breeze
or morning glory aflutter
between the four o’clock and naked lady?
No, not a flower at all,
a butterfly,
showing suddenly white
against the green of a leaf.
And that blue there, cobalt
a moment, then iridescent,
fragile as a lady’s pin
hovering above the nasturtium?
Ah, the older poet tells me,
that’s a damselfly.
And if you just slowed down
and looked,
you’d see all sorts of things:
midmorning toward the end of summer,
head swimming in the garden’s perfume
after a quick, surprise rain.
From: Kleinzahler, August, “The Damselfly” in Poetry, Volume 164, Issue 5, August 1994, p. 263.
(https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?volume=164&issue=5&page=19)
Date: 1994
By: August Kleinzahler (1949- )