The Dragonfly Trail
There is in the woods a path lit with green,
The dragonfly trail as it's known;
Where in the grass small creatures move unseen,
Their lives etched in soil and in stone;
The earth and the rock insects move between,
Roaming in a world all their own.
One walks the trail with a pause in his stride,
Lest he tread upon the life there;
Dragonflies drift lazily at his side,
Their wings barely stirring the air;
As if to serve one as some sort of guide,
As he travels the footpath fair.
Now, surprised, one spots a clearing ahead,
As if from his eyes lifts a veil;
A space no other foot has ever tread,
In its purity almost frail;
And from one's sides now the insects are sped,
Away down the dragonfly trail.