It’s that time of year again, temperatures rise, flowers bloom, and butterflies take wing. Their erratic flutters catch the eye and we watch, trying to predict where they are heading, to guess the path they follow. An impossible maze of off beats and breezes. They have direction, as incidental as it may seem. They are determined to keep moving. They move for food. For family. To exist. They rest. Slow their wings to a standstill. Reveal their beauty to all. They pause, then. A flap of wings, colours dance in the sunlight, plants contrast green. You wonder where they will go now. Such beautiful fragile things. You yearn to protect. Already too late. My sister would’ve been 45 today. I miss her. Thanks for reading and keeping RSS alive. Visit my site for more.
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