A dragonfly,
body blue, flashing wing,
came to lite upon a blade of summer grass,
pale green-- fresh, dewy morning,
on the bank of a river,
clear, spring-fed stream, gently rolling,
near where I lay fishing,
slim bamboo pole, shining nylon string.
He rested there,
pale wing joyfully quivering,
looking out upon the water,
full of life, yet-- quiet, contemplating,
dreaming dragonfly dreams,
flashing wings, other mornings.
Then,
with dazzling flash of pale green wing,
took flight through the clear morning air,
swiftly soaring over the rolling stream
beyond the distant bank, disappearing
past a far field of waving grass
on the sunny summer morning.
As he flew,
bouncing on the breeze,
I was left wondering what answers he knew,
sailing there among the leaves.
What knowledge had he found,
that bid him sail through the crystal sky,
while I, left behind, trapped & earth-bound,
could only watch and wonder why.
Brian K. Miller