The Last Blue-green Spring, a poem

“The beach is not a place to work; to read, write or to think.”  Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Gift from the Sea

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I was reminded of that spring
Before the homebound life, when

A dragonfly, irredescent sapphire,
Accidentally pitched itself into the

Jaws of my ancient Pontiac, ragged
Edged and rusty and ready for the

The wrecking yard, but quickly I
Pulled off the road and popped the

Hood, out it flew, that peppered
Pod with compound eyes, unharmed

Still quite able, propelling itself on
crystal wings etched like Art Deco

It fluttered, headed one way and
I another to Año Nuevo State Park

A vast multiplication of blues and
Greens, of sky and ocean, and Oh!
Fin-footed elephant seals sunbathing

© 2020, Jamie Dedes

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Jamie Dedes:

• About /Testimonials / Disclosure / Facebook / Medium / Ko-fi
• 2020 Poet Laureate of Womawords Literary Press
• The Wombwell Rainbow interviews Jamie Dedes

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