Grasshopper

by Diane Fahey

Diane Fahey

Arrived somehow indoors.
Minute but heraldic,
with unicorn horns,
battledress skin,
matchstick thighs
steely with power.
In a time warp
it vanishes, is there
an arm's length away,
mind and eye unable
to hold the image.
In the grass-green carpet
of the meditation room
it loses itself, enacts
the leap of stillness:
spirit lightening flesh,
flesh grounding spirit.
The open doorway casts
a grid of sunlight;
outside, the garden
withers, unfurls
in midday silence.

From: 
Mayflies in amber





Last updated January 14, 2019