When you spend thousands of hours seeking butterflies, you’re also thinking of what they see, feel and of how they experience their world? Each of us navigates our lives uniquely. Me? I had to handle the streets mostly alone, had to handle threat alone, and had to do so effectively. I used to watch/study kids who had it differently, no solitude, no risk (I could discern) and no near total absence of m$oney.
So I personalize (a bit) the much short lives of butterflies. We know they have perils in their homes, though 99.98% of folks never think butterflies face danger.
This extraordinary spider’s web, seen on an early Pennsylvania morning, it bejeweled with morning dew drops, curtails such thought, that butterflies flitter around, free of fear, free of risk. I’ve seen them hanging from such webs, and often wonder if my disabled hearing (right ear) prevents me from hearing a plea, a faint called for ‘h..e..l..p.’
Raystown Lake, central Pennsylvania, U.S.A..
One thought on “On Being A Butterfly”
nice picture, great text.
Thanks for sharing.
The Fab Four of Cley
:-) :-) :-) :-)
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