It is dangerous out here.
Are you even alive?
There was a feeble wing flap as i took his picture and i spotted the tear in his wing. This butterfly was close to being an ex-butterfly, but i couldn't just leave him in the road to get squashed. As i picked him up, he went crazy with the flapping and thrashing, trying to escape. Even close to death, his will to live kicked in:
Hope is the thing with feathersI have always loved this famous Emily Dickinson poem. Many times you only see the first stanza quoted, but it is the finale that clinches my heart - you don't have to give hope anything but a place to live.
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Hope lives in my heart.
It is one of my defining characteristics.
Right now times are hard for some of the folks i love the most in this world, but i cling to my hope and try to foster it in their hearts as well.
and missing three legs,
but i had to move the butterfly
to this tree
to give him a shot
just in case
he might survive.
It is who i am.