I noticed it there.
The early morning humidity touched my face like a clothes dryer opened to reach for clean towels. Clinging to my skin thick, unwelcoming and uninviting, I fill bowls with cool water for the dogs and glance toward the corner of porch.
Such a heavy morning, blah, slow moving pessimistically blah
I see it and move to capture it, getting closer to notice its frayed edged wings.
Black velvet and azure blue with little specks of bronze, I’m careful as I reach for it, my thumb and finger delicate in grasp.
Wings broken and pressed like a sentimental bloom, I decide to save it, for the sake of simply feeling fortunate in its finding.
So, I bring the butterfly inside, lie it down on the page of the day’s Psalm and carefully move my Bible to the center of table as I go to make coffee.
The house is quiet and cool, ceiling fan whisping my hair and the butterfly just slightly shifting on thin page of Bible.
I read from Psalm 7, thinking of harmful and hurtful times.
I thought of anger, fear, lives lost and of blame and judgement, of understable hatred and hatred stirred up.
Thought of my thoughts and I wondered then, do I really understand?
Could I maybe understand more clearly?
Noticing verses, timely and clear, I pause.
O’ Lord my God, if I have done this, if there is wrong in my hands, If I have repaid my friend with evil…. Test me, you who test our minds and our hearts. Psalm 7:3,9
Help me to see me clearly.
Then, I prayed and wrote and thought of hopes to see more clearly.
To do no harm if I could help.
Like the butterfly, captured and killed on back screen porch.
Could harm have been prevented?
Had it come in to escape the weather or maybe Colt, the happy lab bouncing in the air, excited by its beautiful movement snapped his mouth sharply and clipped its wings?
Brought it to the porch, a delicate and beautiful treasure harmed by rough exchange of play.
But, found by me.
A thing of beauty, tortured, lifeless, but beautiful still.
Life, its beauty remains.
Life, a treasured gift.