Three days ago I let my butterflies go.

My morning walks have been busy

since then.

Crows, for instance

make me nervous now

and I try not to think about

one of my five

being in their bellies.

Nameless flowers

holding the sunset in their petals

make me wonder if

they share some mutual friends

with me.

They came from very little,

my five butterflies.

They were crawling, as big as black lint

when they came to me

that even when they broke through their own skin

grew wings and soared

I worried they might find the world too big.

But then,

a swish of bright orange flew by

and lingered just long enough

as if to remind me

You, as always, are in the business

of growing everything

out of nothing.

— I may have known that one orange butterfly


One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.