Collecting Beauty

In the quietness of years,
years looking back, looking

forward, the eye loses its place
in darkness and blinds itself.

In the room that I was given,
I collect beautiful things:

a green and wispy dragonfly,
a silver snakeskein, pieces

of honeycomb, thin as paper.
Before bedtime, I unlock

the windows to let darkness
fly in; a bottle on my nightstand

to trap it.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

"a bottle on my nightstand to trap it."

Hey, where did you get that bottle, I've been looking for one of those but it always seems ...


Excellent poem!