The Dove-Weed Princess Of The Dragonfli Poem by Patti Masterman

</>Every summer the young woman had filled the pond for the dragonflies,
Who mated and deposited their eggs on it's smooth, glassy surface;
And very often they allowed her to pet them, as she gently stretched
Her tentative fingers toward them, holding her breath, always in full view -
So that they would know she was no predator, sneaking up from behind..

For several years their relationship continued, and she imagined
That their curious heads (which swiveled about every which way,
When following her footsteps around)
Made them seem nearly intelligent, and almost elegant; much more so
Than any other insect she had ever known, except perhaps the Mantis.

On one Summer day, she disappeared unexpectedly from their territories
For nearly a week. When she returned, she was bearing in her arms
A small human of her own; a little half-bald female with placid blue eyes,
Milky as the liquescent sky, and the baby slept through the long afternoons,
Set down within the shade and surrounded by the drowse of droning insects,
Which were her only needed lullaby, off in some faraway dreamworld
She had only recently left behind, to come to this one.

The dragonflies were able to observe the mothers daily caring
For her growing infant, and one day after she had filled the pond again
And then gone inside for a drink- which she almost never did-
(Trusting the dozing infant to the auspices of the peaceful breeze, sleeping away
In her secret, grassy manger) . She watched her dutifully through the window
For a time. It seemed that a long hour must have passed; but in reality
It was not much more than than a quarter of an hour.

And when she returned to check on her treasure, she found the tiniest chain
Of Dove-weed flowers, that had been draped across the sleeping baby's forehead,
Apparently undisturbing of her moist slumbers, as if a transient band of fairies
Had placed their latest work of art there for display all afternoon
Underneath slowly rotating clouds; and it of the most dainty, harmonious
Working that one could imagine, and at the same instant as she spied it,
Slid down just over the crown of the head, like a slowly slipping tiara,
She saw the iridescent circlet of hovering dragonflies,
Keeping guard over the sleeping child- the Dove-Weed Princess
of the Dragonflies.