I do not like mowing the lawn. Mostly because I just hate doing it, but also because of the butterfly.
One day, as I walked noisy stripes across the front lawn, a butterfly was fanning herself on a honeysuckle blossom. Just as I caught sight of her wings, I pushed the lawn mower right over her. I can't even remember if I tried to stop. I just know that after I passed over, every trace of her was gone. I think of that butterfly every time I mow the front lawn.
When I look at the growing lawn, all green-brown and spotted with yellow flowers, I do not want to mow it. I do not want to cut down the butterfly perches and all the funny wide stalks of grass that don't match the rest of the yard. I like seeing the little flowers falling onto the front walkway. And the bees just float from place to place. It is all so happy and wild and sweet.
I think of that butterfly, and I can't bear to mow her little playground.
One day, as I walked noisy stripes across the front lawn, a butterfly was fanning herself on a honeysuckle blossom. Just as I caught sight of her wings, I pushed the lawn mower right over her. I can't even remember if I tried to stop. I just know that after I passed over, every trace of her was gone. I think of that butterfly every time I mow the front lawn.
When I look at the growing lawn, all green-brown and spotted with yellow flowers, I do not want to mow it. I do not want to cut down the butterfly perches and all the funny wide stalks of grass that don't match the rest of the yard. I like seeing the little flowers falling onto the front walkway. And the bees just float from place to place. It is all so happy and wild and sweet.
I think of that butterfly, and I can't bear to mow her little playground.
No comments:
Post a Comment