Picture a Monarch butterfly: Orangy rust with those eye-like dots on the wings that leave fine dust in the hand. Up close it just looks like a beetle with a good tailor. Nobody gets excited (in a positive way) about roaches, but the Monarch! Without those wings, it would look as common as the Queen, minus the gloves, entourage, and attitude, at Loblaws. Ordinary. I was telling Jasper at bedtime tonight about how these butterflies fly from Canada to Mexico, and back, each year. Thumb and index fingers were wings showing the awkward fluttery dance. It’s tough to imagine, but these tiny creatures fly thousands of miles like this. Nobody knows how. It’s a mystery how this creature finds its way. Quietly. Confidently. This gives me hope.
Flutter
