The butterflies are everywhere,
coming out of the woodwork
of an empty field that has been
overtaken by spring workers.
They float in pairs and in groups,
allowing the tall grass to tickle
their bellies, and the sun to warm
their wings. And I find myself in an
open field, tall grass surrounding me
as I lay with eyes closed under the
bright blue, April sky. And when I open
my eyes, I am covered in color, as
hundreds of the beautiful creatures
cover my skin.
They hold on tightly with tiny
insect legs, and pull me up by my
metaphorical bootstraps. Reminding
me as they do so often, that I can fly.
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