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Today I gave my afternoon to a grasshopper.

I felt his armor vibrate in tight tension against the concrete

until the ridged mountains of his legs exploded in a perfectly poised rainbow

through the air.

I flew along with him, straining to hold that shining green shell. And when the ground came from below to meet us

I startled to see the aerobic grace of his body

give way.

We crashed, breathless,

into the unblinking dirt.

Sharp scrapes stung as I looked to see

if he were as battered as I.

But the moment I moved he burst brightly again through the September sun-

a living rocket launched once more.

Just as quickly we banged brutally

back to the earth, now tumbling through grass even greener than he.

And there we were, soaring and sinking, ending each glorious flight

in a ruined heap.

Ready to offer




our bruised bodies for the quick lift of being fully, fleetingly, free.

MARY DAVINI’s poems have been published in the Whistling Shade, Talkin’ Blues, and Raven Review literary magazines as well as in the Saint Paul Sidewalk Poetry project. Mary lives in North Saint Paul, MN with her husband and three incredible daughters. She loves the smell of olive oil heating in a cast iron skillet, Mary Oliver's words, and adventures of all sorts.


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