Ephemeridae

I open the door and leave the house,
leave a may-fly dithering at the window.

How has she survived into June,
temperatures down to 30 degrees?

I leave the door open, hoping
she might find her way to whatever

pond or field is home. Such urgency
I understand. The body tells her

the end is near, and she must find
the open door to where the family
of may-flies finally sleeps together.

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