Blue and Black

Among a cradle of leaves A frog sits facing away from me. Green leaves, touched with faint morning dew. The brook by the side is dry. A butterfly flitters, faint beats of the wing Ruffle the leaves. No flowers, no drip of water drops. Even the wind is still.

I peer among the bushes Vainly for a glimpse of a damselfly Blue and black, who should be here. I, the man, who beat everything Blue and black.