The Song of the Dragonfly
She sat cross-legged beneath the willow tree, chewing on a straw of chamomile, humming quietly. Probably anyone more than a couple feet away wouldn't have heard her. The syllables she murmured weren't pitched for human ears. By and by, a lone dragonfly zipped over to the tree. He hovered attentively for a little while, then zipped off. Not long after, a half-dozen dragonflies buzzed up in formation. Whether the first dragonfly was among them, only another dragonfly could say for sure; whatever the answer, the little squadron flew away after listening to her quiet song. Some time later, a small cloud of dragonflies converged on the willow, dipping and gliding within the sound of her voice.
As the sun set and the moon rose, she continued to hum. As dew frosted the blades of grass, the dragonflies were transformed, and became fairies again, and danced to her music as the moon laughed above them and the stars whispered silver harmony. When the moon fell below the horizon and the first rosy haze lit the sky, the fairies shimmered and became dragonflies once more. Silence descended upon the willow tree as she fluttered her wings and flew away with them, going off to places that dragonflies know about, places you can only see if you are quick on the wing and can speak the language. Maps will only get you so far in this world. Sometimes you have to get by on a song and a dance.