19/30 More a Butterfly Story Than Poem This Earth Day I raked our yard and the berm along the street with year-old cigarette butts and bits of Halloween candy wrappers mixed in. Tonight there will be rain and dry leaves and twigs are easier to crunch and break, fill the bag. Under the bridal wreath bushes next to house I begin to clear the leaves, break twigs when an orange flicker goes by. I stand up and on my sleeve a winged piece of tree bark alights, at first upright and then it opens to show orange wings and a softly furred back that fluffs in the breeze. Dark antenna tipped in white. I look long and long as it stays perched there, but like a cat in your lap, I cannot move or go back to raking until it flies off again. But it comes back and sits on my other arm. It flies off and comes back to sit on my shoulder. It flies around my head and face and sits once more on my arm. A dozen times or more it flies off, sometimes to soar high into the trees but always comes back to me. Sometimes it rests on the low cement wall that separates our side yard, giving me a chance to rake again. For half an hour the butterfly is my friend. Paula would say it was a god moment, a butterfly blessing, and I did wonder if it might be my mom saying hello though she usually uses sparrows. Perhaps it was a spirit guide trying to give me a message that I failed to understand. I took my bag of lawn trash around to the back of the house and when I returned the butterfly was gone. I whispered into the air thank you.
Posted on: Sun, 20 Apr 2014 04:04:10 +0000
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