Camera poised and ready to shoot, I stand and wait as the Monarch paratroopers glide in, iridescently adorned in polka-dotted uniforms of orange and black. They’ve stormed my garden, scanning and probing it for flight fuel.
I zero in on one lone butterfly, fluttering overhead – her wings flapping hard against the late summer’s breeze, the full span of them glistening against midday’s high sun. She finally maneuvers low to navigate her perfect landing, descending onto the tip of the buttercup-shaped lantana where she sips her nectar, letting It nourish her before she takes flight again. In moments, recorded only by the click of my shutter, she drunkenly ascends and joins her airborne troop. I am saddened to know, in probably just a few short short weeks – she will die in combat – for she has always been on a race against time. Her brief lifespan was always destined to be fleeting, and so I feel special that she called upon me and that my garden was on her personal flight plan.
Tonia Allen Gould
©2014
