Dahlias

. . . It seems just yesterday

that small, fat English robins

fluffed out their ruby breasts

among the willows, swallows swarmed

over scissortail meadows and, awaiting

the certain death of the hoarfrost, dragonflies lit,

iridescent, on dahlias that could not decide

whether to be purple or red.

–excerpt from “Dahlias” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag Press, 2014). First published in The New Writer.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s