Three hundred million years
to them we are nothing
mere children
a whisper on the breeze
echoes of a song, that started long ago
it has no lyric, for it is older than words
the sound of sky and water
tall green trees and waving grass
they sang it to the dinosaurs
when the world was new
in turn, our time will pass
as all things do
but they will carry on
unchanging and unconcerned
humming the tune
of their endless dragonfly summer