[Soaring Feather]

Thank You, Bob. Dancing? Yes!

[NicknamedBob]

Kisses in Twilight

The dragonfly so deftly seems to hover in its flight,
And haunts the dusky twilight without dread of coming night.
It searches out a flower and inspects it for perfection,
And then it stamps approval with the lightest genuflection.

Approaching with a silent tread to perform a quiet duty,
It touches down upon the fragile thing of evanescent beauty.
Respectfully, it nears and then descends upon the tip,
With half-a-dozen kisses on the powder-covered lip.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . . . December 19, 2004