To be a dragonfly

Ah the sun on a cold but cloudless day, dragons zooming against the untroubled blue of an afternoon sky. Four wings on an arch-predator circling its pray, dancing its day.

Bees nestled in pollen, butterfly’s drifting among leaves. The birds are discreet on afternoons like these, and the dragons duel charging, clashing beneath the tall shade. Leaves are shed at intervals between duels the afternoon decays with a ting of evening, the sound of office hours closing. Only under still wispy clouds and silent imaginations do dragons reign.

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