Dragonfly: a poetic homage

They Have Come Again

I have noticed several in these late days of spring;
Darting, hovering, glistening, catching my attention.
They come for me when they are needed and they come just to remind me
of who I am.
The one yesterday that led me down the wooded path
to perch upon a branch
and show me the stunning beauty of gold etching upon its wings.
The one that asked me to stay awhile and listen,
the one that wanted me to hold out a tentative finger for it to sit,
but my mind got in the way
and I couldn't hear the truth;
delicate, yet absolute.

They are the truth of when I bury my face in a long, black mane
and inhale the beauty of everything.
They are the green fields
and the breeze that tickles my neck when my eyes are closed.
They are the trees, the ponies, the tinkling stream as it glides over smooth stones.
They are life, the universe, they are soul;
darting between worlds effortlessly.

They are the beauty of heaven on earth that I feel
as my feet are planted firmly on the soil,
my essence spilling out
far beyond where I think it may go, out in all directions,
but especially above and below, reaching to places unimaginable;
Places I have seen and places I have yet to go.

That golden-winged beauty
who reminded me
of my great grandmother's gold leafing on black furniture
will keep coming;
coming to show the truth
and what it is to listen.

© Melanie Lynn, 2020


When it Happened

It was sitting on the fence
fluttering opalescent wings;
the very fence my hand reached out to grasp.
With weightless levitation
it rose in the air
darting to and fro;
Without the thought, without the intention,
my finger pointed straight out in front of me
like a flesh-colored branch.
Eyes closed, eyes opened
and there it was
perched upon my finger,
still but not silent.
I lifted my hand closer to my investigative eyes
and admired the beauty of it
and the beauty of the moment
and all that it meant;
everything and nothing at all.

© Melanie Lynn, 2020