shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Nancy E. Allen

Page 1 | 2


Those velvety summer dusks they arrived,
first one near the willow, then another
by the stone wall. Lights in the hydrangea,
grass blades tipped with their weight. More and more
until they made a galaxy in which
we drifted and rocketed by turns. They
were easy to capture, slow and trusting,
and did not sting or stink in our hands –
as if we were the prey and they lured us.
In the dark caves of our cupped palms,
they glowed a secret semaphore, a code
to memorize before they set us free.