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A single Dragonfly, buckles.

A single drop of rain, buckles.

Humanity? Asunder before the Void.

Rain marches in. Not on cat’s paws.

The motion, set.

The stage, set.

And what of it?

Time shifts, stretches. Lengthens.

So much so the Snow Cones of your youth make sense.

As does love’s first kiss as the two of you stood, abyssaly and all!

As when a bat, in flight, dusks the sky of a summer evening. During the calm.

Upon rain.

Hard.

In Dragonfly time.