A dragon fly
Over a swimming pool
Zig zags with purpose
Like being in at the deep end
Taking a hard decision.

He is red
Like the writing on the wall
Saying 1.6 meters
As I swim my 16th lap.
Like the 4x4 Taxis here

He is trapped
in the realm of tourists
This pool holds no reeds on which to land
No link between air and water depths
For the hatching of generations

He repeats
the habits of his ancestors
Guards this sterile domain
With militant commitment
His choices narrow with each day.

He shows me
Gives me a lesson
Makes me question rote and way
I let go a little, grateful for choice
And human options.

One day he is gone
Then a second day.
I wonder about that
Did he finally see, on my on lap 24,
the futility of defending small horizons.