By Jian Zhi Peter Tolly, excerpted from the September 2017 ZRS newsletter
Walk after Storm
Drops of rain like a dishcloth raised
away from the sink—
a dragonfly face down in the driveway.
It was the flagpole’s clang
that stopped me in the corner of that yard
where leaves rustled up
like electric tendrils. Awareness—
a charge in the mind
pulled to a point like filings to a node.
The uncanny hums
like the dead-last buzz of filament wings
as I turned the insect over.
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