A poem


Waterbound for years,

You move sluggish and slow

Eating and preparing

For your second birth.

The stoop is swept

the laundry done

Your shell hung out to melt,

And timidly, boldly,

You rise until new,


No luggage but gossamer,

Dark-bright, watery eyes,

mirroring brighter unfamiliar Sun –

bathing and drying your wings

which carry you up

into this new world of light and freedom.

You conqueror of space,

fairy queen of the skies –

Radiant, delicate, living joy

Trapped only by time.

Higher and brighter with each sunrise,

Each moment a glory,

a resolute queen

granting royal incandescence.

Yet on the twenty-first night,

Moon gently caresses

earth-bound, resting Queen,

Knowing the Icarus wings

will burn with the dawn.

Shaking off moonlight

you last ascend,

Fiery in flight,

a manic spark

soaring above the fire.


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