by Aidan Chivers
A mayfly, dancing through her only spring,
Explores her meadow, bathing in the light
Of sunbeams passing through her dappled wing
Which flutters on her maiden, carefree flight.
Some fleeting words float through the dying breeze –
She flutters close, and hears a young man speak:
Attracted by his charm, his shape, his ease,
She comes to rest upon his downy cheek.
He, lying back and smirking, self-assured,
Looks not beyond the edges of the glade –
To crosses taken up, to toil endured,
And all that lies in Time’s undying shade:
A heartbeat in the depths of space, he sneers
At dawns and sunsets through the rolling years.