Elegy for a Dragonfly: A Sonnet

Its wings were double fronds of gauzy green, its fragile form a long and tapered flair— this fallen dragonfly I had not seen before, when I had walked out on my stair. I bent and saw that it was not alive, its body crushed, its wings ravaged and torn. Yet something of its beauty still survived— a remnant of the luster it had borne. I marveled at such elegance in death, a noble creature, still, upon my stair. A wave of melancholy took my breath, and eyes welled for a thing so fine and rare. I put the grief away and dried my eyes. Such is the way of tears and dragonflies.