White-faced Meadowhawk (Sympetrum obtrusum)
Could anything be more delicate or more perfect than these luminous eyes and gossamer wings, the delicate legs and gracefully attenuated thorax?
For a moment, there is no up and no down, no in and no out, no here and no there. There is just you and a small crimson dragonfly looking at each other over the edge of a spotted and rusty leaf in a Lanark thicket and sharing a late summer moment in utter stillness. Everything else fades or dissolves or just falls away.
When you return home, you ponder the idea of tapping in a few field notes about the dragonfly and decide that, no, your single photo says it all.