I wonder what your eyes see
That mine don’t
What your mind thinks
That mine won’t

I wonder what your heart feels
That mine can’t
Who your love touches
That mine shan’t

I wonder what your dreams conceive
That mine wouldn’t                                                         ­ 
And what you will achieve
That I couldn’t                                                        
­
I wonder where your destiny lies
That mine isn't                                                            ­      
What your legacy will symbolize
That mine didn't
BOEMS BY JA 488

We attempt rescue, unable to bear
the stardust-coated dragonfly
beat, beat, beating
frantic on the glass.

We entice him to perch
on our extended lifeline-broom
nurse him in a box, where he flutters
quivers, lies quietly blue.

My son cries bitterly
as we place a minute cross
upon the dragonfly grave
while intoning our final goodbyes:

We honor those who have fallen victim
to this fatal architectural trap, lured
by skylights of enticing white-light death
and the paned illusion of freedom.

In admiration of winged determination
and perseverance in the face of futility
we carefully tend the fragile, curved bodies
lay them here to rest under the mock orange.

years of gauze-weighted detritus
swept beneath these ponderous shrubs
a reminder - what seems like freedom
                                                         ­           often isn’t.