Butterfly
- Rita Zyber
- Mar 17
- 1 min read
The mug on my desk that my sister sent me
says “Social Butterfly.”
The social part fits. That’s me, maybe
to a fault? Sometimes.
But I could never do justice
to the butterfly part.
One of God’s perfect creatures – bright, impossibly
detailed. Resilient, delicate. First choice
of child artists: scrawl of pink crayons,
or sidewalk chalk.
A wing of gold Monarch - or maybe blue
on a blossom
is a glimpse of God - sweet
like my Tortie cat,
soothing with her apple green eyes and surprising
caramel stripe down her nose.
Her splashy coat – to me - is the softest, softest peace.
These are God Gifts, Spirit Signs, like shiny
baubles from a smitten girl dad,
who can’t help but say, “I love you.
My mug, my sister’s confidence in me,
makes me smile, but I do not have wings to soar
yet.
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