. . . 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.
Donna Pucciani, Poet 