Tuesday, 21 February 2012

The Dragonfly by Tom Hall

The air was still
Birds flew overhead
Singing a lively song
The sun was molten in a blue sky
The day had been long

I was resting
Lying on green warm grass
When a dragonfly flew by
It was large and blue green
A beautiful thing

It hovered and darted
Among the reeds
Just above the still water
Playing in the warm sun
Having what seemed like fun

Can an insect feel?
Can it think?
It it beyond it's capability?
Are we the only owners of this world?
If so, how can this be?