The Dragonfly dance
The Dragonfly dance  nature stories

yvonnesiwy Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   a month ago
This is what I wrote when I spent the day sat by a little stream in Shropshire, and started my love and fascination with dragonflies

The Dragonfly dance

I sat on an emerald green, moss soft bank, gazing sleepily at a gentle flowing stream.

The loving warmth of the sun caressed my back tenderly, a soft tepid breeze stroked my cheek, slowly lulling me into a hypnotic gaze.

Overhead, a buzzard glided on spiral thermals calling like a lost child.

The soft breeze seemed to halt for a moment, to leave a heavy summer stillness. This was the cue for the performance to begin.

Through nodding reeds and melodic grass, a Demoiselle fluttered on wings the colour only mother nature could create.

As if by some magical incantation, the Demoiselle called the others to the dance.

First came the exquisite china blue Damsels, pirouetting like marionettes, then the grand Dragonflies with purposeful flight, each one displaying their unique rainbow iridescence,

hovering and diving like swallows after a summer shower.

All around me, crickets performed their magical song, the song of deep summer that slowly, gently permeates every corner of the mind and spirit.

I sat in utter wonderment, not daring to breathe should I disturb the performance.

Then one by one the dancers took their bow and departed.

First the delicate Damsels flying low over the clear stream, then the Dragons, whirring high, stopping, then disappearing, finally the cobalt Demoiselle took their bow on fairy wings.

I was left with the strum of the crickets accompanied by the youthful chatter of the stream.

Then as if to say thank you for staying to watch, a Kingfisher, the blue of summer lightning flew low and fast along the winding path of the stream.

If I had blinked, this electric apparition would have been lost to me.

I sat gazing once again at the gently nodding reeds. The soft breeze brushed my cheek stirring me from my thoughts.

My sun blushed back tingled as I moved slowly up the mossy bank, not daring to look away from the stream, afraid I might miss some other magical event.

I looked across the meadow shielding my eyes from the brilliance of the sun. Dandelions set free their fluffy snowball clocks to float effortlessly into the sky.

I walked slowly, my mind still full of the multitude of colours the dragons had displayed.

I turned one last time to gaze at the stream, a Jurassic heron floated down on immense storm grey wings, to take its seat for the nights performance, but this,

I know in my heart was for some other eyes.

As a walked across the meadow in silence, the sun began his predictable journey taking the final curtain call with an eruption of pinks and oranges, finishing in a blaze of red.

Now it was the turn of the moon to take her place as guest of honor

And so the show begins.....

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