Fertility Rites

Today I watched a butterfly throw off its chrysalis—its wings wet and yet unfurled.  And then the frisky fluttering of two other butterflies attempting to mate—renewing the cycle in the small patch of morning sunlight that warms the gauzy veil of the butterfly habitat in our home.

Spring is coming, I thought. I need to stop everything else I’m doing for a moment. And wait, and watch for it.

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Circa Last Week

So the snow melt has been going on for a few days. Yesterday, I saw a newspaper buried underneath the white. Like a time capsule, dated Thursday, Feb. 13, 2014

‘WINTER WEARY’ shouted the headline to a story forecasting 6 to 8 inches of snow. All the store shelves would be wiped out of bread, milk, and toilet paper, the reporter noted. Only the snowcount was more like a foot and  half. And the biggest food wipeout at the stores were tortilla chips, especially Doritos.

So much for predictions.

Five Minutes to Midnight

A writing prompt for my class: Think back to the five minutes before midnight on New Year’s Eve or else-when on that night—-or 5 minutes some other eve to paint a scene, an extended moment. What I spun off:

This New Year’s Eve I woke up 5 minutes after midnight.

The sound of horns and fireworks outside pulled me out of my doze in front of the TV. And what came into focus was the scene at Times Square in New York, only there was no campy, nubby, multi-colored ball already dropped nor a scattering of paper confetti in the air. It was all hot, hot pink and flash and strobe–and, in my dazed state, it looked like a dystopian Bladerunner-stylized scene of edgy dark excess.

And I realized: The Future is Here.