The Dance of the Butterflies

The Dance of the Butterflies

I watched the dance of two butterflies

one hot afternoon.

First one appeared,

then the other—

both greeted me with grace

as they circled and spun in the air.

In a moment

I was captured, like an innocent child.

Grateful, smiling,

surrendering to beauty in its purest form.

Their dance lasted ten minutes, maybe more.

I followed every move,

afraid to miss a step,

afraid they might leave me

and slip away into the sky.

But still they lingered,

flying in the open,

fluttering through the bushes,

turning the ordinary into something alive.

Mostly, they seemed to be courting each other—

a ritual older than words,

as if everything around them was magical.

Magnificent in their own way.

The universe holds such harmony,

which is too complex for me to explain.

But when I pay attention,

I’m allowed a glimpse.

That afternoon,

I watched the butterflies

until they disappeared from sight—

and then I continued my own dance

with the universe.

With love,

Gulten Dye