an old biscuit tin lid
with a painted scene
so lovely in it’s own
quaint way that you
can but smile at such
until the day comes
while wandering the
roads you drive round
one more bend and
there it is, the self
same scene exactly
as perfectly projected.
The electric jolt
of shared memory
shocks you both
into silence as
quietly, with no
you reach over to
hold hands again.
over the lakes at Johnstown Castle
was sheer joy skimming air and water.
The green leaves by the waters edge
a textured backdrop to highlight
the dancers’ dazzling display,
colours as blue as the electric flash
of a kingfisher’s fiery flight
downstream, almost at the edge of sight.
While dancing dragonflies defy gravity
in reels and revels of their own
I am lost entirely in the moment of wonder,
lost in the dance of the dragonfly,
hearing again the heartbeat of the world,
flies, flowers, light, shade, all combined
in one glorious rush of summer,
leaving my heart dancing to
the beat of a dragonfly’s wings.