A Young Friend

From across the dam, I heard, "Robley! Look!  Meadowhawks are mating!"

Emery and his mother were on the bridge, she lying and he standing, looking over into the slough.

By the time I got there, that pair had disappeared, but others appeared as if by magic.  I showed Emery some photos of the Blue-faced Dragonfly, and we all watched a swimming salamander-like creature.  Just then, an Autumn Meadowhawk landed at Emory's feet.

"Stand still!" his mother said.

"Yes, so I can take a picture," I said.

I did.

"Next summer, I can't wait to show you more dragonflies," I said.

And I mean it.  In him, I see my three great-nieces and one great-nephew, whom I do not see much in the flesh.

I can't wait for summer and dragonflies with my young friend.