A Small Beauty

A cluster of tiny insects flies outside my window this evening. There are thousands of little bodies twinkling in a cloud of movement that is backlit by the setting sun, and framed by dark spruce boughs.

They circle forever counter-clockwise, wheeling on and on in an air show of tiny sparkles.

There are always two diamond dust rings, one large and one small. The tiny ones slip from one swirl of bodies to the other, but each whirling disk holds fast to its appointed size. The whirling cycles are gossamer but have more momentum than the most powerful of hurricanes.

Why do they dance? Are they hunting? Are they chanting incantations to the setting sun? Perhaps they are a living key that releases the sun from its daily toil.

Whatever they may be, the miniature circling clouds are delicate, wild and weaving magic in the pink light of evening. They bring me happiness.