Could've been a swan on a glassy lake.
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Could've been a gull in a clipper's wake.
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Could've been a ladybug on a windchime,
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but she was born a dragonfly.
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In the sun she warmed her wings
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and listened to the cicadas sing.
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"The trees are all bending
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in one direction
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because of something..."
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Cross-pollination by the legs of bees in the spring
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is a beautiful thing.
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Oh when the sun goes down,
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the fireflies come out.
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In a pond crept a slimy thing
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that hummed a theme from the Rites of Spring.
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Pity the mate of Queen Mantis,
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so content, but so headless.
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Katydid nothing but shiver and cry,
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as did the dragonfly.
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In the shade the gypsies spin
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Among the cloves, they drop their skin.
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"...beyond the hedgegrove,
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over by the willows,
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deep in the shadows..."
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Regeneration occurs at a furious speed
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beneath the white oak tree.
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Oh when the sun comes up
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the moon buds fold up.
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In the sun she warmed her wings
|
and listened to the Rites of Spring
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Could've been a swan on a glassy lake.
|
Could've been a gull in a clipper's wake.
|
Could've been a ladybug on a windchime,
|
but she was born a dragonfly.
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In the sun she warmed her wings
|
and listened to the cicadas sing.
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"...ain't ever seen it, but i have heard it.
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Sounds like the millstones when they are turning,
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but every moment getting louder and louder,
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and then there is silence,
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and the smell of flowers."
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-----------------
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The Dragonfly
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Clutch |