The dragonflies hover and dip at the edge...

The dragonflies hover and dip at the edge ofthe pond at the cemetery. Light catches in the net of their wings as they rushand pause, rush and pause above the mud and turtles and hungry ducks. Flotillasof lilypads make a thin ground on the water. This is in the summer when it’s warm.Now, ice has come to the pond. We stood at the edge and threw small stones totest it. They landed with an otherwordly whang, skiddled across the ice, andbrought beautiful action below the surface, a slow-motion rolling of dark coldwater. Strange music, small stones on ice, like the sound of stars acrossdarkness frozen over, like a licked thumb around the lip of a glass, ringing inthe all-ears of those below the cold and silent stones. It’s almost winter. Thedead don’t know the cold. Sleeping are the turtles. Sleeping are the bugs.

[Watercolor Drawings of Japanese Dragonflies, collected by Lafcadio Hearn, artist unknown, 1900.]