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The Dragonfly

	Could've been a swan on a glassy lake.
	Could've been a gull in a clipper's wake.
	Could've been a ladybug on a windchime, but she was born a dragonfly.
	In the sun she warmed her wings and listened to the cicadas sing. "The trees are all bending in one direction because of something..."
	Cross-pollination by the legs of bees in the spring is a beautiful thing.
	Oh when the sun goes down, the fireflies come out.
	In a pond crept a slimy thing that hummed a theme from the
	Rites of Spring.
	Pity the mate of
	Queen Mantis, so content, but so headless.
	Katydid nothing but shiver and cry, as did the dragonfly.
	In the shade the gypsies spin
	Among the cloves, they drop their skin. "...beyond the hedgegrove, over by the willows, deep in the shadows..."
	Regeneration occurs at a furious speed beneath the white oak tree.
	Oh when the sun comes up the moon buds fold up.
	In the sun she warmed her wings and listened to the
	Rites of Spring
	Could've been a swan on a glassy lake.
	Could've been a gull in a clipper's wake.
	Could've been a ladybug on a windchime, but she was born a dragonfly.
	In the sun she warmed her wings and listened to the cicadas sing. "...ain't ever seen it, but i have heard it. Sounds like the millstones when they are turning, but every moment getting louder and louder, and then there is silence, and the smell of flowers."