Under the Sun
Dragonflies dart and hover over the gleaming water.
Hand on the tiller just idling along
watching for hawks coming out of the sun.
Good place for a smoke and a song
but there's just me and the dog to sing to
and he howls at me when I warble a tune.
My old lady will be fixing bacon soon
and the fish aren't interested in getting caught.
Yet I linger on here watching the scintillations
of flying dragons, not yet hungry enough
to end a daydream.
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