Reading and hearing about climate change is one thing, but seeing the evidence right in front of us is chilling.

 

 

A mid-March dragonfly,
young and just discovering its wings,
buzzes near my bay window,
inspects the already residing crane fly
and chameleon, then flies away.
This graceful visitor is a month early
in its emergence, mirroring
the sudden February flush of azaleas,
the surprise arrival of amaryllis,
and the early appearance of crawfish castles
in my yard. As the world continues to warm,
births are increasingly premature, as are deaths.
An adult dragonfly lives only two months—
will this one make it to six weeks?
The dragonfly represents transformation;
as we are transformed, we learn to adapt,
yet even a hundred dragonflies
darting around our heads, gazing at us
with three millions lenses,
may not be enough to convince us
to reverse our course.