The dragonfly has crimson eyes―
the dragonfly, monochrome crimson.
[I gaze at the garden and wait,]
Gold feathers swirl in the birdbath―
feathers float in the birdbath, delicate yellow.
[wait without the desire to understand:]
A silver-white strand of web drifts by in sourceless grace―
a drifting strand of web briefly shines silver-white.
[between me and the garden: the fullness of space and light―]
My grip slips as my eyes watch the fall without failing―
with unfailing eyes I see it fall from my grasp.
[the eye supplies what’s left out, what’s lost:]
This is an account of a kind of peace,
[thousands of leaves, thousands more.]
of when I can feel the breath taken,
of when I am no longer waiting, or no longer perceive I am.
[I’m.]