I’ve been feeling pretty prosey lately. Wrote a 900+ word story yesterday, but today it’s barely 200 words. That’s OK, I’ll allow it. I can do that. I released yesterday’s story pretty late because I was busy all day. So you might go check that out if you missed it.

Resting on a quaggy patch of purslane, a vibrant puddle of butterflies disperse in beautiful blue splashes. This is one of Greg’s favorite things to watch as he walks the path down to the back pasture. Sometimes it’s a surprise, because the wings are sometimes not even noticeable until they scatter.

Greg is careful to not disturb the wet grass and the mud patches for that reason. Sometimes he can’t even see them until they launch, as they may blend with the grass, or wildflower growth.

It’s a gorgeous sight as he walks down when the sun in rising. The pastel blue, the lime green, the pink, the yellow. He notes that he never sees them in mixed groups. A wake of welcoming wings, flittering in the light before him, incandescent, and synergistic. Illuminated in the air.

The difficulty in the world weighs on everyone. It is a time of fierce and deadly denial. Greg knows how lucky he is to be able to have these moments. He feels blessed. He gives thanks for these memories.

The orangeness of the morning is fading into day, far too quickly for Greg. If he could get all the work done in this state of the day, that would be very pleasing. Orange time. That’s the best.

The End214 Words

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