there is a dragonfly
hovering before my face
all iridescence and resplendant
smug in its obvious beauty
as if to say:

“i fly like a jewel before the world
to the places you cannot see;
i whisper into your imagination
pictures of what you cannot be”

but it is enough
to watch this small garden god
take wing and spin to the skies
on wings of lovely lace
a small gift, in this one place