The Whirling Butterfly

I stepped into a world of pinks, reds, yellow, and purple. Bee’s, butterflies, and hummingbirds flying free! Long flowing stems swaying, in a soft summer breeze. An aroma, fresh cut hay, teasing my nose! Smiling, I recall that day… not so long ago. Closing my eyes, I inhale a welcomed scent. Looking up with dark green eyes - I feel my Grandmothers smile warm my face. Calloused finger grasping my small hand. Pointing, she drew my eye to a small delicate thing. Pink wings and tiny feelers, swaying in the wind! She bent slowly, whispering, in my eager ear, “It’s a Whirling Butterfly” She said, with a giggle and a sigh. Time passes quickly, like rushing waters of a fall. In my garden now, pinks, reds, purple and yellows. Bee’s, butterflies, and hummingbirds fly free. Delicate stems, dancing, to music, of an evening breeze. Movements, drawing me, to a special place. Pointing, I show my Granddaughter the prize! Excited, she looks at me with her big blue eyes. I smile, tenderly at the soft red curls sofly lying around her sweet little face. Tears swell, in a dusty throat, as she grasps my calloused finger. She spies the pink wings, the yellow feelers, swaying in the wind. Whispering, “ It’s a Whirling Butterfly ” I almost cry! With a giggle, and a sigh.