The View (Prose Poem)

As I sit here at the window viewing rolling hills and fallow, yesteryear memories are back on a fast forward spinning track now that the ground is very wet. Deserted fields now catch the eyes and there are no signs of edible supplies. It has been raining days on in a row. Heavenly fireworks are on show. The clattering sound, flashing neon lights and pilots are afraid of the sky so planes do not start the flight. 

The rains are but gone now, the sky is clear and animate and blooms are everywhere. The dragonflies are in the air.



Such an awful name they must bear and I will not call them that in here for they must know that I do care. Oh! How they do soar in the sun with flair. One minute their heads are up in the cloud and then down with their outstretched wings so translucently clear.  Their gaping mouths are share delight. They stalk their prey and swallow them in the bright light. Now I say predators are on the loose. Mosquitoes and gnats are in the noose. They fly so freely high above in search of those mates to love. Rest they must on that blade of grass mindful of children as they pass.  They stand on their head, what a laugh, their tails so straight like some giraffe. They conjugate in the groove and notch. Their mating wheel is there to watch. Audible impact is the lust. Dragonflies you tease and you fuss zooming close to my callaloo. Then you must be the tantaboo.

©Paterika Hengreaves