Dragonfly, born of wisdom's sigh and beauty's lance, dance all these heady days not for my eye yet for self-happy flight.
The dragonfly was nature's magic; this springing to life of simple matter, of chemicals built of atoms, was so beautiful that one could easily believe this world was the art of a master creative.
The dragonfly's wings are more awe inspiring than any cold panes in cathedral frames.
Upon the crystal vase alight two dragonflies, delicate yet robust. I watch them dance over its surface, independent yet together, feeling the warmth of sunny rays.
And in the ambient air there came a dragonfly, a moment of playful blue to breathe a spark of joy into the daytime.
Come dragonfly into my palm, to touch soft and sensitive skin, so that my inner dragon may fly away to distant shores.