Monday, July 11, 2011
There was a freshly turned plot in one of my cemeteries this past weekend. I added my offerings of welcome among the festooned pots laying on their sides over the clods of dirt. The next day, when I went to check on the new dead (I've no idea who it is because it is too early for a headstone, but I feel it is someone young) there was a woman sobbing at the grave. Not wanting to disturb her, I kept my head down and pulled Tracker close since he is still prone to wanting to jump on and play with every human he meets. As my eyes turned towards the pavement, I saw a single wing from a Monarch butterfly, shredded and covered by a muddy footprint.