It was a large dragonfly beating on my windowpane early this morning, hanging upside down by a thread of web. I slipped into loafers, found a soft-headed broom and went outside. The thread easily released, and the dragonfly gently dropped onto the straws of the broom. I rested the broom across the arms of a wrought iron bench on the front porch. The dragonfly, spanning four inches across, had wings like glass, a body of dark gold. Its maroon eyes were almost spherical, and looked to be gazing at me with interest. I tapped the wings with a finger, but there was no response. I'd been too late-a spider had already injected the insect with a paralyzing agent-a common but grizzly practice so that she could wrap up her hapless prey to provide fresh living food for future youngsters. Spiders are not practicing Buddhists.

I came back out a couple times to check on the dragonfly, but it was still there, frozen in place on the broom. I feared I'd made a mistake, failed to rescue the insect, and now it was no longer in a position to be a food source either. But, maybe three hours after the rescue, it was gone, apparently recovered from its anaesthesia and newly focused on whatever it is that pleases dragonflies.