It flutters and at first I think it’s a leaf or a feather.
Run to catch it.
But it moves in my hands!
Drop it like it’s hot.
Go and get Mother.
Telling me to shush as she kneels beside it.
Looking up at me, crying.
“It’s called a butterfly. Butterfly.”
Making me repeat it, so I’ll never forget.
© Copyright, 2014 Cliff Burns (All Rights Reserved)
A lovely photo by Sherron, taken on our back deck.
The sunny weather means that I’ve been outside, raking and doing yardwork…and found the imprint of a maple leaf, pressed into the cement.
The picture I took wasn’t nearly as nice…