Whatshot
Dragonfly wings
Dragonfly wings
Date: 2026-01-29
"Deep in the sun searched growths, the dragonfly hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky."
(Dante Gabriel Rossetti)
Drakensberg dawns. Curtains drawn. A glow sneaks through the mountains and scatters into glitter. Touching and fleeing the windowpanes. I leave the house to snore peacefully on. I swan around the lake. My feet are dew-soaked within seconds. I marvel at droplets slipping and sliding on leaves but refusing to fall. How much more we listen when the traffic of life is stalled. My pig tails are like antennae, shooting upwards as my eyes cast down. In the grass. Beckoning. A lacy wonder of gossamer light.
A frozen dragonfly! Nervousthat I would disturb its' slumber, I lay down in the grass. Edging close enough to see its skeleton, outstretched wings a silvery network of lines. A living, shimmering fossil. Waiting for the sun to warm its body and liberate it into flight.
Red-heads roast. Dragonflies roost. Resting their overactive bodies close to water, in reeds or grasses. "When the dragonfly rests, the lotus blooms" (Thai proverb).
Once they wake, a dragonfly is a whirl of perpetual energy. Hovering, diving, mating in mid-air, playing, dunking their male counterparts in the water. Drowning in flirtatious courtship. These 300 million year old creatures symbolise transformation and awakening. I begin to hover near the lake. Entranced. Searching, a flash of malachite, a burst of crimson, they are everywhere here, skimming and staying still.
High above, Rhino Horn stands erect. Waterfalls gush. A cormorant (commonly known as shags) spreads its wings. A huge bee bumbles. 2026 has broken into song. The dragonfly wings spring into life, chasing after me. What is the beginning of a new year but a coquettish wooing of new Life?
I tell the snore. Next time. Rhino Horn.