The Little Emerald Dragonfly
-By Michael D. Strickland-
Flying amoung the cattails, darting to and fro,
there is an Emerald Dragonfly looking high and low.
For what can he be searching? What can he soon obtain?
Where ever is his prize as he searches in the rain?
Fast as summer lightning, zipping through the grass,
all at once you see him; then he's gone in a flash.
For what is it he's looking? Whatever will he find?
Of what could he be thinking? What is on his mind?
Flitting from blade to blade, alighting on a leaf,
the dragonfly finds his item gone. Who could be the thief?
In his last look of despiration, wanting not to roam,
The little Emerald Dragonfly decides to go home.
As the day is ending, as the sun goes down,
the little Emerald Dragonfly takes one last look around.
Finding a blade of grass, making not a peep,
the weary Emerald Dragonfly settles down a sleep.
This poem is dedicated to the late Mrs. Elizabeth Keene.