A Stilled Dragonfly

I saw a dragonfly today

Lying quietly in the grass.

On closer inspection

It looked perfect

Whole

Beautiful

And still

As if frozen in time

Or just plain frozen.

The first cold spell

Breaking summer’s fever dream,

Taming the heat,

Softening the sun’s rays.

The intricacy and delicacy

Of the dragonfly’s stilled wings

A vivid type

And foretelling

Of latticed ice

And ephemeral frosts

A coming and going,

A changing of the guard,

Passing nearly unnoticed in the night.

No bells tolled

Or bands played

For this single quick departure

–Among many others–

Though elegant as any.