NPM 2 / 30

I should note that these pieces are drafts. Sometimes I go back and refine them, and sometimes they just exist here.

The Day of 10,000 Butterflies 

last March, I was visiting my mother
we were a year past the death of my father
only a couple months until I would move in
to live with and care for her

it was Saturday
hazy sunshine scattered across
warm winter afternoon
only days until spring

I happened to look out front window
saw what I thought was debris floating by
confetti or broken packing peanuts on the wind

it didn’t stop
just a fraction at first
sweeping through the neighborhood in clusters

I’d heard about the butterfly migration
the wet winter produced a super bloom of wildflowers
that caused their population to boom
but here they were, using my street to travel
to flutter by this bedroom community of Los Angeles
to give us a glimpse of natural beauty

my mom & I sat on the front steps to watch
as the painted ladies danced on the breeze
sometimes one alighted on a bright dandelion
or just on the grass at our feet

one was delicate, but in a mass they were figments
definitely there but moving so freely as to disappear like smoke
only to be met with the next wave of gossamer strands
floating by, impossible to catch or to ignore
silent drifts of speckled wings
following their path north

wondrous is too soft a word

One Comment Add yours

  1. Sandy Thompson says:

    You’re just so wonderful

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