bounding out the door, completely consumed with errand-running and my own head space, i was stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of a dragonfly, lying on his back on the ground in front of me. i bent down to pick him up, to marvel at his delicacy.

to my surprise, he was still alive.

i thought, he must be dying. i will hold him until he passes. dragonflies can't live for very long.

i thought, if he's dying, i will hold him. until he passes. so he won't have to die alone.

so i held him. and he held me. he gripped my thumb with his legs and held onto me. i watched him intently. his mouth was moving. was he trying to tell me something? i watched. and i listened. but i couldn't hear the sound.

i marveled at his gossamer wings, impossibly fine and delicate. how could they keep a being airborne? they were thin as smoke.

i watched as he sat on my thumb, amazed by his long blue body expanding and contracting with each breath. he was breathing. i never considered before that a dragonfly could breathe. so i watched his every breath, intently. and i lost myself in minutes.

i whispered to him and wove him a love poem of his beauty, of his preciousness, of the gift he gave me in allowing me to sit with him in these moments. i stroked him with my attention, my finger too boorish to touch such delicacy. i prayed for him not to suffer. i joined his rhythm and felt his depth.

and then, in the blink of an eye, he flew away.

and i am forever changed.

Published June 26, 2014