Ruby-Eyed Dragonfly

We want to know everything! The children clamored and clustered around the old rotten log, around the big green shimmery dragonfly, bigger than they had ever seen, who spoke in a voice so quiet and dry it sounded like leaves or dry twigs in the wind. His eyes seemed bigger still: red like a drop of blood, hot and luminous, drawing them closer and closer until they felt like they were spinning down, down, down in a lazy spiral, sliding hot and slippery down a drain.

Well! Said the dragonfly, with a satisfied rustle. He arched toward the wind, all a-quiver, and said with great seriousness, "But you must be still, children. The wind hasn't all day, you know. And I am old and rickety. I haven't the patience I used to..."

Susan stepped up first, with her sparkly blue eyes laughing. "You're not old, Mr. Dragonfly! Not old like my grandpa!"

Dragonfly dipped a wing and smoothed an antenna between two hooked feet. "Why thank you, dear! I have aged well, if I do say so myself" he said, preening slightly. But suddenly stern, he swung close and peered into her eyes, frowning, and said with a crackle like deep thunder "But I am old, older than this log, older than these hills, older than the sky, older than your grandpa's grandpa's grandpa!" I have seen much to ponder over these many seasons, and so much that needs to be said, we have no time to waste!"

He motioned to the children to sit, and they scurried into a semicircle, seated crosslegged on the ground, whispering and giggling, then falling silent, eyes wide as the dragonfly grew dark and stormy, red eyes leaping like fire as they surveyed the scene, landing on each child, probing slowly, piercing some sort of surface tension and stirring the deep waters within. The children's exited expressions calmed, and their eyes became fixed upon his huge red orbs, as their bodies began to sway, ever so slightly, in the warm afternoon breeze, scented with the lilacs growing wild down the lane by neighbor Finney's pond.

The dragonfly settled back, and drew a breath. Then with a creak and a groan, adjusting his abdomen, he began to speak.

"Once, children, when the world was young," he began, "There was a beautiful garden, tucked into the folds of a mountain so tall that it's peaks were always draped in heavy mist and upon its shoulders lay a permanent blanket of frozen diamonds. You can see these same diamonds in any deep-winter snow, sparkling beneath a frigid sky, if your mothers would only let you up to see."

"I've seen them, the sparkly diamonds!" pipes Suzy, whose head was filled with many wonders. Her mother, who wasn't like the other mothers, often bundled her up late at night, and they would lay together on a blanket in the back yard, or sometimes in the driveway - like the time the moon turned red - and she would trace constellations in the sky with her finger and fill her daughter's tiny head with stories.

"Yes," he chuckled, "I am sure you have." He tousled her hair and with a grin and a wink, and motioned her to silence.