Damselfly
After Cynthia Zarin
Blue Vase
I am sitting in my chair watching the sprinkler turn
when the black damselfly lands on my wrist.
I study it. Lacy wings fold over a black abdomen
with tiny yellow stripes. It sits there, not exploring my arm,
its black eyes stare into mine. I don’t blow it off,
knowing it will not sting me like a sweat bee.
It spreads its wings, a slip of light, untamed.
Heron Clan
