the dragonfly's dream

I saw her crouched
in the morning sun,
resting
her tattered wings,

dreams woven
in the fabric of things
lived in waves,
held in the net
of longing,
of no escape,
as she soars,
dances,
weeps,
suffers,
and loves,

always romancing
with life,
as she carries the net
in her wings.