At sunrise, over pale-blue waters,
damselflies, who just returned
from Trinidad, dance a calypso,
flashing bare behinds—
luring dragonflies behind cattails,
sea lavender and mangroves
in a celebratory estuary.
The reddish heat of passion
and the pale-blue waters
turns into an extra-spectral
color of magenta.
Aquatic creatures of the deep
join the party, blowing bubbles
as if it was New Year’s Eve.
Much like human beings,
ancient flying insects do
whatever they have to
for a moment of pleasure.
At sunset, over navy-blue waters,
sated dragonflies with transparent
wings use their multifaceted eyes
to find an empty knot-hole in an old
oak tree for a safe place to sleep.
Ghosts of insects sleep in the silent
country of the floor of murky green
water filled with forests of eelgrass.
A golden setting sun streams down
on old birds who forgot how to fly.
Clinging to each other, they sing
remembered tunes from yesteryears—
strolling in the rippling shallows
of the shore overflowing with schools
of silver alewives, making all God’s
creatures feel rich.