The air fractures into filigree with the movement of wings.
Dragonflies, dozens, hundreds, emerge every March on one collective birthday, or so it seems.
They are one of Spring’s heralds for my part of the world. I know this because I’ve kept a sporadic journal for several years. I record my bird and insect sightings—and there is undoubtedly a cycle. Cedar waxwings, rufous-sided towhees, giant swallowtails, and dragonflies followed by the rupture of leaf and blossom.