Butterflies are Messengers

Butterflies are Messengers

For they bring me

Memories of my childhood in New Mexico

Of our rundown house

Of blistering hot summer days

Of our huge half acre property

Of skinks and horned toads

Of bees both honey and bumble

Of fire ants

Of chickens 

Of my father

Gone three years at the end of this November

One by one his memories were stolen from him

In the years leading to his eventual demise

They flew away like butterflies in the sunlight

Leaving his mind in a fear-filled darkness

At his memorial service in May

The month he was born

A butterfly flew over his stone

Then off into the distance

I hope that at that moment he remembered

That his daughter always loved butterflies.

~Cie~