Flight Of the Dragonfly
Folded into the morning dew
is the fresh scent of spring.
It hangs lazily in the air, as does
the dragonfly; seeming weightless and beautiful.
Touchable only for a moment which
seems to drag it's feet as it leaves.

Millions of tiny jewels rest on every blade
of grass, and sleep on every flower's petal.
Light refletcs beauty out of these droplets
in a thousand different directions with
a thousand wonders held in each.
For this moment, everything is immortal.

The atmosphere soon warms and the
dewdrops dissapear into the air
to become a part of warm blue skies
and magnificent sunsets.
And through all this change,
it's beauty is eternal.

-end (April 28th 2000)
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