Writing: A True Story


A True Story – Perhaps not about Butterflies at All

I saw a Butterfly in November
she was alone and beautiful

and though her season would soon end
she carried on in her own way
oblivious to the coming cold

she appeared delicate, fragile and small
but I sensed in her a strength
I envied
as I watched her fly away

this morning I woke to a biting frost
and as my breath appeared to me
hanging in the bitter cold
I thought about that November Butterfly
and how it is sometimes the little things
we take with us forever

and in that way
she will live beyond this mortal season

I shall not be the only one who knew
she was here

as I tell my children’s children
some cold autumn hour
about my Butterfly in November
from yesterday

November 8, 2004