by A. f. bradley

Created on: July 17, 2008

Dragonfly Wings

When a dragonfly hit my cars windshield
the momentum slowed
though imperceptibly
and for only a split second:
the insect was liquefied
it melted as a snowflake in my hands
and was no longer recognizable
save for its wings,
which remained unchanged:
fenestrated and clear
now pasted to the car
in their tea colored remains,
yet still buzzing in the breeze:
seemingly unaware
or perhaps unconcerned
with this recent tragedy
as if they had a life of their own to live
and until now,
they had never flown so fast

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