blazing star

Monarchs flutter from the blazing star. I want to join them. I picture them orange and blue and red- often green and pink, if I’m looking up at my wall. Or yellow and brown when I’m typing on my Mac. Multi-colored and bright and beautiful should they fly through my dreams, envisioning them in threes, fitting the numbers on my arm.

I heard in a song, “Happiness is a butterfly”. Beautiful and gorgeous; a captivating dream. Fleeting and short; two weeks, two months, somewhere in-between.

I get close when I lift my hand and stick my pointer finger out, I think I’m silent and unmoving, hoping if I stand there maybe it will come to me.

I say I won’t hurt it, but I moved sharp and quick. The silence was so loud,

So it bats its wings until it’s no longer in my periphery. The vibrant hues of those butterfly wings permeate my thoughts and coat my heart. Bright and beautiful, forever a reminder of what could have been. I suppose I should have known better. the most beautiful butterflies are ephemeral