Another Language
by Ellen Rowland
Another Language by Ellen Rowland
A large gold dragonfly
landed on the laundry line
as I hung sheets and shirts
in the late afternoon sun, alit o
on the weathered wooden clip
next to my hand. So close
I could see its globed eyes
like two tiny planets,
the veins and membranes
of its nanocomposite wings
intricate patterns of etched glass.
I spoke to it out loud
hello there, beauty
as it darted and dove
hovered and returned
to the edges. And I wondered
how many forms a soul might take,
how many messages
you have tried in vain to bring me,
how many sets of wings
you must carry and lose,
how much suspended faith
before I am able to translate
all you have left to say.
I love this poem- truly another language! Sorry about the extra o at the end of the line- don't know exactly where that came from! 🙏
I can relate to this although I don’t hang clothes up to dry any more
(I do miss hanging up sheets and towels). We see so many things we normally ignore when we take time to observe closer. Of course hearing another language is a higher level of perception.