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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