The monarch butterfly spreads her wings I see orange church windows Arches inside arches Delicate yet resilient Darkness and light merge
Thick black ridges separate each part Translucent to let light in To let light out Protect or to conceal? Tiny white specs Purity
Enticing the curious among us to delve beneath the wings Go behind the orange windows Is it true that you carry a spirit? We whisper We listen for a message from the spirit We don't always hear one
We leave you be monarch butterfly We leave you to fly free Monarchs behind orange windows...let us fly free Leave us be
This post is in response to Esme Salon’s Picture Prompt #6 Join in with the monthly prompt and let your imagination be a rebel.
He walks our hay meadow often, with his camera, binoculars and a lunch box. He crosses the stile, then stops to smell the honeysuckle. He closes his eyes as he inhales the sweet pungent fragrance that emanates from the pale yellow tubular flowers. He’s appreciative of the natural things in life, I imagine.
He whispers to the birds and the bees as he rambles through the wild rebellious grass. Sometimes he lies among the buttercups to stare at the sky, photographing the clouds or a passing jet. Then he sits in the shade for a while, eating his lunch.
He wears a silly hat when it rains and a different silly hat when the sun shines. Perhaps he comes here because it’s peaceful and serene—most of the time. Sometimes the thrashing of farm machinery in the distance disturbs the serenity, and Farmer Tom’s noisy old tractor passes by now and then.
He caught me watching him one day and I fled to the old farmhouse that is my home. I hoped he wouldn’t follow me; yet I didn’t feel afraid…only shy. He seems a kind gentleman, not likely to cause me any harm—like some of the others.
He didn’t follow me but he came back the next morning and I watched him again; out of sight, shielded by the foliage of the hedgerow. Red Fox slinked through the meadow and the man took lots of pictures of him. That made him happier than the time he got a shot of the melodious Blackcap warbler. I wondered if he’d like to take pictures of me. If that might make him happy. I know he’s aware of my presence.
The noisy machinery will soon make its way to this uncut meadow and he might not come back here after that. It’s time to give him what I know he wants, even though I know that when I do, I won’t see him again. But that’s okay because I too will soon leave the meadow, and my adoptive parents.
I called out to him. He looked all around. I called again, teasing him. He took off his silly sun hat and craned his neck, as if pushing his ears forward so they could hear me more clearly. A funny little man indeed. He stood in the middle of the meadow peering through his binoculars.
Then I showed myself…in all my glory. ‘Cuckoo’, I sang. ‘Cuckoo.’ I perched on Farmer Tom’s rusty gate and dared him to come closer. He did, very slowly, with his mouth open and his eyes as bright as stars. His got down on his knees and positioned his camera.
I ruffled my grey barred feathers and opened my pointy wings. I gave him more time than any bird ever did, I guessed. But I think he deserved my attention, and I trust that his rendition of how he captured the rare cuckoo in the lens of his camera, will glorify his ego—and mine!
The time when my mother nearly blew the roof of the house when she opened the lid of the pressure cooker…the wrong way! We actually could’ve died. The End.
In this picture I see a relaxed mother holding her new baby. Dad is sitting a short distance away. Maybe he’s a little nervous; a new baby is a huge responsibility!
I have a recipe for the new parents. I’ve used this basic recipe a few times down through the years, but tailored it to suit different needs and personalities. Oh…mistakes were made when often I used too much of one thing, or not enough of another.
I’d be interested to know how you would tailor this recipe to suit your own family’s needs.
Ingredients:
For the base you will need:
500g of child-raising flowers
One hive of honey
Equal parts of long-life blood, sweat and tears
Warm arms
Adoring eyes
Soft voices
Two big hearts
For the filling you will need:
One bucketload of empathy
Ten bucketloads of encouragement
Ten gallons of positivity
A gazillion gallons of affection
Endless supply of patience
For the topping you will need:
Four good ears
Two pairs of watchful eyes
Stern voices
Big cuddles
On the side: to be used sparingly
Worry
Annoyance
Irritation
Frustration
Method:
Mix together the child-raising flowers, hive of honey, long-life blood, sweat & tears, warm arms, soft voices, and the big hearts.
Keep very warm and raise for 4 to 5 years. Reduce temperature slightly and then fill with empathy, encouragement, positivity, affection, and some patience.
Raise for several more years. When pie begins to sprout hormones (Oh…you will notice), keep cool and spread with a thick layer of topping; good ears, watchful eyes, stern voices and big cuddles. Add lots more patience.
You will need to dip into your side dish from time to time—worry, annoyance, frustration, irritation—but use sparingly because it has to last for a loooooong time.
Continue raising and when you feel your work is done, place a huge blob of pride on top, then sit back and enjoy. Or…begin again!
Would you like to take part in SIPB’s first picture prompt? Please do. It’s good exercise for the brain. Visit here for more details!
Gloria McBreen 