I see so few dragonflies these days, but 
I did see one today. Just now, in fact.

It perched on the screen of the laptop 
perched on my lap. I’m perched myself

on my porch, and I wrote this very line
as soon as it flew off. But until it did, 

I stared, amazed at and by its delicacy,
its grace, and ancientness, too, knowing

they’ve been around longer than dinosaurs.
I’ve seen their filigrees fossilized in mud!

Nevertheless, there we were just a second
ago, together across the ages, at the end-

stage. It’s likely now to hit a windshield,
to leave just a smeared, fleeting trace.

About Kevin Grauke

Kevin Grauke has published poems in The Threepenny Review, The Cincinnati Review, The Minnesota Review, Ninth Letter, and The Louisville Review, among others. He is the author of the short-story collections Shadows of Men and West of Destry, and a third short-story collection, Bullies & Cowards, is forthcoming from Cornerstone Press in late 2026. He teaches at La Salle University and lives in Philadelphia.

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