I called it
the beautiful fairy
For I knew not
What else to
Describe the sight
I was witnessing
It was mid noon
On a Clear, Hot, beautiful
southern winter day
Sweat poured
From my brawl.
I was working
On the hedges
And birds of paradise
When I spied
What I thought
Was a strange butterfly.
Her colors intrigued me
To the point
I had to closely inspect
I was in uttered awe.
Reaching into my
Waist band for my cell
Praying she didn't
Fly away.
"I was right"
What came next
I have to watch out
Very closely
For I might be mistaken
For a complete loon.
She was blonde
And the most beautiful
Creature
I have ever witness
In my live.
She wore a green sweater
Tiny blue jeans
And high black booths
Are you ready for this?
She was riding atop
The black and yellow dots
Butterfly
I took several pictures
To prove
I am no loon by any means.
There is no full moon
See the picture I took
You tell me,
An hour later
I saw the butterfly
Trapped in a web
And no fairy
Riding her back
You be my Judge
Sure wish that picture was bigger. Nope, buddy, I don't consider you a loon. There are unexplained things going on around us day in and day out. I see things quite often in what I call out of the corner of my eyes. They are there for a fleeting second and then disappear forever. I used to believe this was what they used to say about the consumption of LSD, that although we could quit using it, it would visit us especially in our old age. Who knows. I know you saw your "fairy," William, I am positive of it.
This is lovely! What was it that Shakespeare wrote? Something about there being more things on Heaven and earth...? I agree with Lois. These are our loved ones letting us know they're still with us. Take care.
Excellent observation William! Truth be known, miracles are unfolding right in front of us every day. We just need to go outdoors and open our eyes. I could write a book about truth being so much stranger than fiction. I believe many fairy tales come from real life experiences.
I saw a butterfly that was black and blue with white dots on it's wings after Tom's burial. It landed on my shoulder, went and flew on the bottom step, I sat down on top step and talked to it til it flew away. They are our loved ones letting us know they are alright. So comforting, i'll never forget that day i saw it.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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Kathy
A sweet fairy sprite you may have come across.
Go quickly after her or she will disappear.
Lady Mary Ann
Love ya!
Jane