Monday, May 9, 2011

my name is memory

...surrounded by blooming pink dogwoods and populated by about a million butterflies beating their wings in slow motion amid daisies, snapdragons, zinnias, and cosmos.
photo source
The butterflies came in every color, pattern, and size, and stood perched in their strange, stuttering suspension. And then all at once they took flight.
photo of Ann Brashares
They whirled around over her head, and she felt panic at the thought that she had scared them away. But then the flying spiral thickened and slowed until it was all around her and she was the center. She blinked her dream eyes, and all the butterflies went back to their slow-beating perches on the flowers...

1 comment:

if the spirit moves you, type some words