There it is again.
Dusty pale blue pendant in the middle of the air.
Creation’s resounding echo.
It’s been there every summer for as long as I can remember; effortlessly defining the air in rattling twists and turns like some tiny, maddened barnstormer. The blue of its abdomen washed out like a pair of old jeans.
And though I know that this isn’t the same dragonfly that I saw here one or two or ten years ago, genetic persistence makes it seem as if it were. Like Lee Falk’s famous cartoon strip hero The Phantom, I know that this little fellow is but one in a long line of dragonflies who have assumed the mantle of summertime dragonfly on this little plot of land.