Her reward for standing still: communion with a winged, wild, beauty.
Two sets of wings shimmered as the dragonflies, lifted by invisible currents, danced overhead locked in an ancient ritual and she watched from the ground, the sun caressing her skin.
She’d heard of the magic of dragonflies. That they could instantly transport you to another place. A place of peace. Of calm. Of wonder. And so she stopped when the dragonfly flew near. So close she heard the hum of its wings beating the air. She stopped. To listen. To watch. To wonder.