Sometimes when hot July days drive me indoors where cool air and soft chairs greet me with a welcoming nod, I think I might like to be a butterfly. What would that be like? I have lingered in my flower garden for long minutes waiting for one of these beautiful gifts from Nature to light near enough so I can take its picture. I observe their long tongues probing into the inner sweetness of the blooms. Antennae gracefully feeling for purchase on the stem, they move with ease over each blossom, searching for nectar. Wings folded neatly at rest, and then lifting them to flutter to the next offering nearby.
Gentle breezes make the flowers move in the wind but the butterfly holds on until it has drunk its fill. If the wind blows too strong the butterfly just flies away to a protective tree branch and waits until conditions improve. So fragile. So light. What must it be like to be able to float on the gentle breezes and move with butterfly wings?
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