In the rain, they are too small. The wings, the small holes, the designs, are filled with water. Their bodies glisten. I collected a jar of them and kept them in the garage for winter, one side frosted with window air. Their bodies quickly froze to the sides, a strange kaleidoscope of purple and blue. In the spring, under the sun, their bodies turned green and fell to the bottom of the glass, shattering.
August 9, 2014, MLT