Narcissus

There, you
flitter between arrival
and
oblivion, perched princely
on a skirt
of Sun, bob
and wiggle in
a swell
of wind, fluttering,
flailing — flappy
ruffles, swooping,
swaying —
swishy whispers, a
throng of yellow,
a shout
to
creation,
a single dazzling breath
born of rain
and dirt,
and air,
and light, bursting
out of wintry
ground at thinnest
rumor of spring.
You arrive,
and don’t insist
permanence;
only a note,
singular — divisibly
infinite; each lilt
no less
than star death,
each swivel a birth,
yet no
more than a city
moth
who’s come to drink your
scent and
dew,
nor a
man come
to find the dream
of his being,
and path
beyond the ripples.

more by JUN HUA EA

Photograph by JUN HUA EA