This morning I opened the french door to the backyard, cup of coffee in hand, and walked out to the pool. To my sorrow, I found a beautiful dragonfly floating motionless on the surface of the pool.
When I gently moved him, hoping against hope that he wasn’t dead, to my joy, I found that he wasn’t! He moved his legs much more strongly than I would have thought, having spent at least part of the night in the cold water. There was still some fight left in him, so I scooped him out. I laid him on the kool-decking so he would have a chance to warm up and dry his wings.
He laid there for a while, gathering strength and getting warm. At last his wings were dry enough to fly, and he helicoptered away. But he didn’t go far, he alighted on one of the wrought-iron bars of the fence surrounding the pool.
He stayed there for a while, drying his tattered wings more thoroughly in the hot sun. I wondered if he had damaged his wings fighting to get out of the water, or if he had had more dangerous encounters before he landed in the pool. He was so beautiful to look at, and I was so pleased that I had been able to get him out of the pool before he died.
So the dragonfly was given a second chance, resurrected from a watery near-death experience. He stayed on the bar of the fence for a long time. Then, as I returned to the backyard with my second cup of coffee, the fence was empty and he was gone.
¡Vaya con Dios, amigo!