not the oaks
not the soil that holds the oaks
not the bedrock under the soil
not the ginkgo towering
over a spider’s web
the web trapping a dragonfly
the dragonfly weakening, sensing sun
and shadow, vanishing
as spring bluebells vanish
by summer
as ferns vanish
in winter
as the drone
mates once with the queen
then vanishes
after one brilliant moment of being.