How unfair, I thought, to wake into a windy world
doomed to struggle against an unseen hand
your only quality, pretty wings,
useless against a stormy life span.
She kept going with great courage
as the day continued to bluster,
I imagined her muttering as she passed my pots
maybe even getting flustered…
“So much to do, only days to live!
It’s really such a fooster
I’ll not get to the shops before I fall off this coil
if I don’t get gigantic booster!”
Taking a breather she checked her pockets
a look of horror on her hairy face
“Oh damn I forgot my freaking purse!
Well that puts me out of the race”
So with nothing left to push against
and no place left to get to
she unstuck her feet one by one, sighed
and then let go…
A piece of doggerel that came to me as I saw a Small Tortoiseshell Butterfly tumble by yesterday. At the time I imagined that its life span was only days and that it had just emerged but on reading up it turns out they can live up to eight months and the ones we see early in the year were probably coming out of their chrysalises(es), (chrysali?), as late as last October and spent the Winter hibernating.
Eight months. Wouldn’t be a bummer if those eight months straddled the coldest or most tempestuous days?
It made me think of all the forces that might be ranged against us that are out of our control:disabilities of the physical or mental sort, emotional or psychological predispositions, genetic anomalies but also the nature of the world we might have been born into. All of these can constitute good or bad ‘weather’.
In the end its to learn the trick of not struggling against something you have no power to change, the trick of unsticking your feet, taking off and watching the pots go by.
Now we just have to figure out how to do that…