07.08.08
The dance of dragonflies and goldfish
As I sat on my porch late this morning drinking my first cup of coffee, I watched two pale blue dragonflies perform their mating ballet as they hovered within and near the limbs of a young weeping birch that hangs over my koi/goldfish pond. It was an amazing sight. As the male approaches, the female hovers, sometimes darting away, and he must approach again. Once they are synchronized in their dance, they ascend at an amazing speed straight up into the air, so high I am unable to follow them.
I was so taken with the dance of the dragonflies, that I didn’t realize the goldfish were also spawning. Not until I stood up to return to the kitchen for a second cup did I notice the splashing that was going on in the pond. Goldfish, at least the goldfish in my pond, usually spawn at daybreak. I’ve even been awakened in the morning by the sound of water splashing as the males chase the females into the shallows, nudging them to release their eggs. Two weeks ago, I found a goldfish in the bog next to the pond who must have been pushed over the rocks during the ritual. The poor thing was flapping on its side, its gills barely covered by water.
There’s gotta be a poem in this somewhere.
This afternoon I put the finishing touches on two of my poems that have been accepted for publication by the Philadelphia Poets Journal, a print publication I had submitted some of my work to last year. The editor, Rosemary Cappello, is a wonderful woman who is very dedicated to poetry and art here in southeastern Pennsylvania. She has lived a very interesting life, and I would encourage anyone reading this post to visit her website.
This evening, just before dinner I noticed that Comcast is showing “The Good Earth” by Pearl S. Buck as a free movie this month. If you’ve never seen it, watch it. You’ll be moved to tears and cheers. The Pearl S Buck homestead is about a thirty minute drive from my house, and I’ve never been there. I think that is going to be one of my weekend destinations before the leaves turn color this fall. Hmm, maybe there’s a poem in this as well.
O.P.W.
