In the backyard on poop scooping duty yesterday morning I came upon the carnage. All that was left strewn along the dirt near the hammock were wings of a butterfly that had met its doom. It’s assailant unknown.
I guess there may be people out there who go their entire lives not getting to hold much less look up-close at the magnificence of the insect’s flight system. Beyond the colors and patterns, it’s quite remarkable to hold something that on the butterfly’s level is so durable, yet in the palm of a hand is perhaps one of the most delicate things one can hold.
Nothing more than a exhale sends it sailing.
At arm’s length it appears to be a fragment of stained glass, but looking upon it up-close is a bit like peering through a window to an undiscovered galaxy — wafer-thin yet densely packed — so be sure to click the image for the biggest picture:
In so complicated and busy a world, the butterfly’s wing reminds me it is possible to be paused and amazed by the slightest of things.
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