The soft flap, flap of the flutterby’s wings
are rarely heard by any but the closest listeners.
The brilliant hues glisten as she flies silently by,
framed by the dripping black designs.

Follow her through her journey,
torrential winds that threaten her existence,
rain that wipes away her brightness,
stalking predators desirous of her beauty.

Her fragile life is short, by your standards,
fraught with perils and hidden dangers
that would simply bother you and no more,
but are life-threatening to her.

She tastes the wind and sees what you cannot:
the smell of shattered glass upon a neck,
the forces that hold up your delicate reality,
the bass beats that reverberate the air around you.

Her subtle beauty can catch your eye if you but let it,
the light scentĀ of wit, sass, and love to be given
create a musk unique unto itself.
It’s the little things in life, now let them consume you.


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