Dragonfly

By Marylin Schultz

Dragonfly, Cody, Wyoming, photo © 2012 by Tracy Clark. All rights reserved.

Dragonfly

No audible cry do I hear,
but am drawn to see your plight
mired in mud, frozen there.
I offer a small branch of hope.

luminous lapis blue eyes
recognize reprieve in faceted lens,
delicate pattern of wings against
sky and soft distant mountain.

Freed from earthy prison,
this was not your final sunrise
after all.

On my morning path
as though resigned to her fate
patiently waiting.

_________________________

About Marylin: Marylin (aka oliverowl) is a freelance writer living in Wyoming. She has written essays for a weekly column in the Ventura Star Tribune and collaborated with her grandson on two illustrated books for children. She currently writes with the Cody Writers. Her previous pieces for red Ravine include the travel essay Rollin’ Easy, Writing Practices Kindness and Cloud, and two memoir pieces, Images From The Past, and Two Little Girls & A World At War.

In 2010, Marylin was published in the book, From the Heart — Writing in the Shadow of the Mountain, a collection of work from members of Write On Wyoming (WOW), a group of authors and aspiring writers living in northeastern Wyoming. Her contributions to From the Heart include two works of fiction, To Love Bertie Lou and The Appointment Book, and a collection of haiku, Seasons in Wyoming.

-related to posts: dragonfly revisited — end of summer, first dragonfly, Flying Solo: Dragonfly In Yellow Rain , Dragonfly Wings — It Is Written In The Wind, Shadow Of A Dragonfly, haiku 4 (one-a-day) Meets renga 52

-posted on red Ravine, Friday, November 23rd, 2012

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Shadow Of A Dragonfly

–Shadows, May 26, 2007, photo © 2007 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.

She planted the deck flowers: tickseed, Meadow Cranesbill geraniums, Oranges and Lemons, red poppies, Fragoo Pink strawberries, and leaf lettuce in the garden. In between: cloudy gray rain, fall gusts, striated slats of sun, stunned clouds propelled by 25mph winds. It doesn’t feel like summer. Drove by the cemetery to see 100’s of flags in honor of Memorial Day. Thought of the uncle I lost in Vietnam. 

Listened to NPR, a show on Cody, Wyoming, about America and hunting and killing. The man being interviewed said if a person goes out to hunt only to pull the trigger, he’s not a hunter – he’s a killer.

I listened carefully and thought about the practice of hunting: waiting in the fog and misty rain, stalking the herd, firing the rifle, skinning and quartering the elk, packing the meat out of wilderness in three, 11-mile hikes, then on to the table for food.

Ancient ritual. Shared generation to generation.

I visited with a friend. I watched a movie with Liz on the couch. The hours fly by. Everything is green. We looked at Liz’s aerial photos from her trip to Cody last weekend. Around the Snake and Cheyenne, lime patches twist and turn next to the furrowed Big Horn Basin. The prairie in the distance is a rusty chocolate mixture of dry glacial ruts against puffy blue skies.

The view over Minnesota – bedazzling emerald streaks and anthropomorphic sky puddles amount to corn and cattails and soybeans and thousands of widemouthed lakes.

Dragonfly landed on the porch next to the screen door. “Grab your camera,” Liz said. Snap, snap, snap. Dragonflies were flying when dinosaurs roamed the earth – 300 million years of history, sitting on the doorstep.

–Aerial, May 26, 2007, photo © 2007 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.

Saturday, May 26th, 2007

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