Golden Hour on the Dijk

Somewhere between the third pond and the turn for home, the light went amber and everything slowed down. The reeds caught it first, then the water, then, just for a second, one of the large blue emperors that had been patrolling the ditches all evening banked into the sun and became something else entirely. Wings that were invisible at speed suddenly glowed like cathedral glass, every vein lit from behind, the blue of the abdomen burning cold against all that warm gold.

You usually don't stop pedaling for dragonflies, but sometimes you do and just observe in wonder.