Here’s a new poem inspired by the warmer weather.

The Same Blessed Nothing

The mayfly and I
are the same.

Cellophane wings tear,
crinkle iridescent,
as spring arrives.

The mayfly and I
are the same.

Everything
is the same blessed
nothing
in the space
of the infinite.

The luminescent turning
of star dust to star dust,
the slow lumpy unwinding
of energy into stillness.

The mayfly and I
are the same,
our scales but slightly different.