On Days Like This

walking means stepping out of mind.

Animals kill others to survive, unlike people, who also murder.

Odonatacide

Today, I (inadvertently) murded an Odonate of a kind I have stalked for years.

When I saw something large with shiny wings tumble out of the bushes, I followed.

It flew back in. I followed.

It fumbled back out. I followed.

I approached. It flew a few more paces.

I took four pictures. I tried to lean in with my camera.

It tumbled off to a clump of grass of my left, where it struggled to right itself and perch. I followed.

But a bird got there first, beaked the dragonfly, flew twenty paces to a curb, tucked the Odonate in, and took off to the trees by the lake.

I now have survivor's guilt and this beautiful photograph of a (now deceased) Prince Baskettail.