Swan Song

I
This dragonfly nymph hauled itself out of the water, scuttled across the bridge abutment, and insisted on tucking itself into a tiny crack between stones. How, I wondered, would it ever survive.

I returned in late afternoon and had to scrape out the sodden odd remainders. It appears my fears may have been well founded.

II
For the last week, my camera's sensor has begun failing. Four good shots, then a white one or two. Then I turn the camera off, turn it on, and it might work again, or not. Ten percent, then twenty the rate of failure.

Two G12s. Two complete failures. The first in fall, the second in spring, just when Odonates appear.

III
Alas, for spring's losses.