That one must still their breath, softly,
Even to notice.
Parading a lushness of bloom,
Riotous tendrils burst and grow anew,
In sparkling diamonds of morning dew,
Reveling in summer’s persistent,
And benevolent façade.
Migrant sparrows escape winter nests,
To fly far and feast on exotic bounties,
Of smaller prey that fly, and crawl, and creep,
They, unaware, or so resigned to fate,
Since life is life,
And the weaker are often captured,
By the stronger.
Allow an indulgent tear, in the solemn sight,
Of the death of a single dragonfly,
One sparrow sustaining itself on one single dragonfly.
It is a whisper of a death, mayhap writ into time,
A humble, quiet death,
But a death to be noticed and to be mourned,
For the world is so immeasurably less,
In its loss.