In the garden
Awash with summer
Pregnant with Purple Sunshine and Windflowers
A fly buzzes by
You flick your hair aside
Revealing
Your surveillance equipment
Perfectly formed
And petite
You catch my star
ing and lean across
To whisper to me
“They are for listening to tiny things”
You say
“Dust colliding,
The beating of the Blue Damsel-fly’s gossamer wings
Skimming the pond,
A raindrop sliding down a window.”
You look me in the eye,
“The skipping of your heartbeat.”
Oh, to know such things
And not be driven to madness.
How wonderful, how sublime
To exist
For once
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