I am every bit a dragonfly today <br />feeding on fleeting days, <br />the crisp fall air <br />turning my stomach, <br />my wings barely tangible. <br /> <br />There will be snow soon <br />and I will be lost in it. <br /> <br />I can find no hope in the tainted <br />leaves, the turning season, <br />the expanding night. <br /> <br />There seems no reason to rhyme, <br />no color that is brave enough, <br />no metaphor complete. <br /> <br />I will understate my fragility <br />and will suffer it alone. <br /> <br />As useless as the dying year <br />with its dispiriting quiet <br />and incurable days, <br />I linger, only just, ragged-winged <br />within diminished words.<br /><br />Christine Austin Cole<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dragonflying/
