When the Dragonflies Rise
They come in the low, late August sun,
as if gold is what they are made of,
reflect the hay ground, cut clean, and ambering.
They come only now, when the sun drifts south
in the autumning year, day nearly done.
Dragonflies, by the hundreds— thousands—come.
Flash, and flash, they drone over and around you,
within reach, as if they stitch some invisible thread
between seasons, weave across and back as if
to mend your late summer grief.
All across the field, above, and in the distance
they rise; an echo of midsummer’s fireflies.
Their sparks fill the air—
There! And there—and there!
Droning magnificent,
dragonflies sweep and dip
as if their only purpose
is to mirror August’s burnished sun to you,
tell you, more than goldenrod can,
there is turning—and in the letting go
there’s gold.
Copyright © 2025 by Catherine Young
Top internet photo by shirshanya
Bottom internet photo by Angela Metcalfe Brock
Catherine,
What a beautiful piece!
Your woven tapestry of words and images are magnificent!
A superb piece! Very lyrical. Great imagery. Over the years, I found out more and more about them. Dragon flies are amazing creatures. On my many trips to the BWCA, I remember being fascinated by the carcasses left from the larva stage of the dragon fly. In the nymph or naiad stage of the dragonfly, it is an underwater creature, an immature form that lives for one to seven years before emerging as an adult. These aquatic predators have six legs, large eyes, small wing buds, and a scoop-like lower jaw. They breathe through rectal gills by drawing water in and out of their hind end. They molt several times as they grow, eventually crawling out of the water to molt their exoskeleton and reveal their winged adult form. The latter is the form we see them in. Fascinating creatures!
Catherine–Both of your photos are beautiful. I keep rereading the ending sentence of your poem, which perfectly summarizes the essence of the poem. Congratulations!