by Tony Hoagland, from Unincorporated Persons in the Late Honda Dynasty
Once, in the cool blue middle of a lake,
up to my neck in the most precious element of all,
I found a pale-gray, curled-upwards pigeon feather
floating on the tension of the water
at the very instant when a dragonfly,
like a blue-green iridescent bobby pin,
hovered over it, then lit, then rested.
I mention this in the same way
that I fold the corner of a page
in certain library books,
so the the next reader will know
where to look for the good parts.