On the Dock In the Summer

As the summer sunlight hits the surface of the lake I am transfixed by a million kaleidoscopic sparkles making the water look like a silver-blue satin sheet complete with thousands of winking diamonds upon it strewn like some cosmic boon an ethereal treasure a dazzling gift of the fickle Texas weather causing my eyes to squint from the overwhelming glint though I try to keep them open pupils coping because the ambiance is magic so brief, it's tragic the lake seems like a living creature a silent preacher reflecting the wonder of God... I start to nod as I feel my skin bake regardless of the claims they make surely this must be healing this wonderful feeling. I breathe deeply and clear my throat as I note out of the corner of my eye a brilliant green-blue dragonfly wings beating at lightening speed hovering over a stand of reeds like some kind of prehistoric chopper only...elegant and proper. I marvel at the aerodynamics of this minature flying myth proving dragons still exsist as it darts and then hangs suspended irredescently splendid as God intended suddenly flying in reverse (physics be cursed) then warp-speed ahead and my body feels like lead as a thought crosses my drowsy mind wondering if, at a certain time, they were descended from dragons, thinking of Bilbo Baggins... or maybe they're aliens come to invade not realizing until they arrived the mistake they'd made on the matter or sizing for, if they were larger, like planes, if you will, we'd all be transfixed by their flying skill. So maybe they're tiny, frustrated invaders living like traitors. I focus now on the whirr of it's wings and the lullaby it sings finally surrendering and my last conscious thought that my psyche reveals is that this must be how happiness feels.