Dragon flies

There is a dragon fly pond near to where I once lived. I learned about that pond with thanks to young children at a pirate treasure hunt I captained for Ben's birthday several years ago. I had drawn a map and made a series of clues and had placed treasure stashes of candies and other goodies at the park before they arrived. I watched, for a moment, a bright, deep red Dragon Fly and knew that I loved its name. It landed on my knee and it was definitely bigger than one of the little electric blue darning needles that kept darting by me where I sat. It seems to me that I have noticed dragon flies more often recently than I did when I was a child. Somehow, I just don't think that they were around as often when I was young and small. But that stocky bright red helicopter just touched down lightly on my body during his busy work as if to say "Hey: look what I did while you were gone...since you were a child" and "How do you like my new outfit?... I have got to go now.." When I was a child I hardly noticed the way they were dressed - instead I noticed how they resembled miniature military helicopters - especially the big four winged black and dark blue ones. I imagined that something like a miniature Darth Vader was flying them.


I remember the end of being young one day when I chose a place to lie in the sun out at the end of the dock on Spider Lake. That dock was a place that I had seen dragon flies land before while I waited my turn to water ski. So, now that I had the time, I waited in the full stillness of bieng alone for one to land near me - if it chose to. I let my attention follow the flying dragons through space until they would touch down near the end of the wharf where they rested and glittered in the sun - where I could inspect them closely. I still remember the muscled feel of my bare chest on thick, sun softened boards of the dock while I waited for them to land near by. I remember the wonderful smell of clean summer skin and the feel of sun-bleached wood on the dock. My chin rested heavily on the backs of summer hardened hands. I remember how wet patches on the dock whispered secrets about the clean lake's summer life and of knowing just how the wood had been softened and frayed by hot summer sun and the lake's precious water. I remember my head heavy and my eyes sleepy in that place.


A blue Dragonfly landed triumphantly right on my shoulder and seemed to claim victory over my still form. I stayed calm and did not move and instead of brushing it away, I studied it closely through my right eye from just 6 inches away. I had never seen one so close-up before. There were too many lenses in its eye to count and Darth Vader was definitely not inside. I watched how the thin strong armor on this primitive beast moved. I listened for the clink of loose screws or the scrape of metal plates against each other. I didn't hear any of those sounds. Instead I heard the dry rustle of crinoline as I felt myself being carried beyond an outgrown childhood. Returning to summer sleep on the dock I felt somehow older and richer but even today - I still hold up hollow dragon fly molts for inspection when ever I am lucky enough to find one.