His Majesty
P Patti Masterman
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Dragonflies tussle over who owns the sky
Is it the blue ones, the red ones, black..
Jostling for dominance
Like short bursts of lightning
In an electrical storm
They appear without warning
And disappear as suddenly
They are expedient hoverers
Sometimes they spiral together
Entangled like silk polymers
Dangling from iridescent parachutes
They settle down on swaying stalks
Ignoring the wind that rocks their unweighted paper bodies
Straight above in the shimmering distance of heat
There seems to be one monstrous dragonfly
Wings spread to the limit, flying solo
But it's only a restless hawk
Taking lazy advantage of the skies tides
He always stays one dimension above
Insects, birds, and kites:
No interaction is needed
His dominion has never been secret
He tolerates birds and bees merely because
They are beneath his notice
And upon the wings of his beneficence
His majesty flows.
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