As I walked out onto the porch just now, there, sitting in a broad shaft of sunlight, was a butterfly. I stopped to admire it and, as if basking in my admiration, it flexed its wings once or twice. Black shot with orange -- everything sharply etched in the light.
"You're beautiful," I said. "But you would be better off outside." And I moved my foot slowly into the shaft of sunlight and towards the butterfly.
As if on cue, s/he took off out the door. I stood, feeling the sun on my feet and in under three seconds, the butterfly returned and landed like a friend or a conqueror or a patient teacher on my left foot. Foot and butterfly, together in a shaft of sunlight.
Then I moved and s/he flew off, never to return.
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