The fruit fly dreams the empty glass;
the organisms in wine,
the flies.
The dragon fly skims across the surface of the wine;
the padded paw across
my boards.
My cat with her wings out-spans
the highest bird;
the cumbersome bear tears the throat
of the antelope, caught off guard:
an eye fixed upon the blade of grass;
the other, glazed, is miles away –
in the field he once lay.
12/11/16
you’re not allowed to write comments better than the poem! Thanks Dean
like…not lie..ha!
I lie my comment, too! the ‘unity of recognition’ deserves some expansion
I like the aligning of things being thus, in contemplation; how such diversity in perspective and apparent purpose share some unity of recognition