The penitential sound of a yellow-billed cuckoo. I glimpse a dragonfly out of the corner of an eye—an electric blue needle.
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The penitential sound of a yellow-billed cuckoo. I glimpse a dragonfly out of the corner of an eye—an electric blue needle.
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COUNTERPOINTS
Changing forms in midair is de rigueur
for mating mariposas; little wonder they
attract curious attention about how love
makes them ape the graceful twists
of aerialists locked in prurient embrace
even if they had no feelings for each other.
It’s when they come closer to my legs
that they become wary of each other,
just as I become weary of being alone.
If they perch on my legs, I would be part
of creation, the one that multiplies, leave
them alone until satiated, they fly elsewhere,
change sizes, and merge again wherever
gardens require them to bring in the worms.
—Albert B. Casuga
06-22-12
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This response was meant for the previous post on butterflies:
A red admiral butterfly that keeps changing sizes turns out to be two butterflies, wary of each other, wary about perching on my legs.—Dave Bonta, The Morning Porch, 06-21-12
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