Hovering over a lagoon
Dragonflies flit under the moon
Diving in their torrid glory
And beneath the lagoon, drinking moonlight,
Fishes ripple the moon-bright,
Gilded, among rushes and reeds
Scarcely reflecting their deeds.
The tourists recalled seeing a crane.
It was, to be sure, a majestic thing,
Yet wild as any you could name.
She said: “May this thrive among the tame?”
“Perhaps in Grecian Art or among Yeats’ swans.”
Was the response.
(But recall they’ve been found on suburban lawns).