I was sitting outside,
enjoying the day,
ticking off time,
letting thoughts stray.
I was writing an ode
to the coolness of morn,
gazing off into space,
thinking how to rephrase
at a particular place.
When I shifted my gaze
back down to the page,
I found fragility;
there an insect wing lay.
Translucent and frail,
a bodiless wing
sat on my blank page,
so I outlined its grace.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 7/26/04