The Monarch's Flight

I opened my wings to start my journey;
thousands of miles to fly home;

I began in the North, feeding on a friend's
ripe, pink milkweed.
He grew it just for me and my kin.
Strong and brave, I rose above the garden;
Heading South for the ocean.
My gossamer wings stretched out - orange, black and gold;
Shining in the sun as it warms my perfect body.
A gentle, southern breeze carried me high;
over the factories and homes below.
I felt weary crossing the blue mountains,
and stopped for energy.
Food was sparse as I lit on dying plants.
Hungry, I continued over the pines
against a strong, western wind.
The rain beat me down.
I hovered on a kind oak leaf until the storm grew weak,
Again the sun warmed my body.
Yet, I couldn’t take flight.
A wing was torn.
I twirled downward as I fell in flight;
landing on a flat wooden branch.
Time passed, precious time until
a large shadow blocked the sun from my sight.
I am no coward, but, dared not look at the final blow.
No, I was lifted, moving, but, without my wings;
Without a pulse of my body!
The grass moved under me;
I watched as dirt rushed beneath my spent self.
The way is clear before me;
but, the clear, smooth wall does not give way.
Lifted up, I am laid gently down past the wall; my torn wing useless.
The shadow touches my broken body, as I shudder.
For frightful moments, I’m pinned and with no way to escape.
Miracle of miracles!
I am freed and set on a ripe, fragrant milkweed.
I drink deep.
Once full, I try my wings.
I am able to soar with no delay!
The shadow serves those who fly wild, I do believe,
It has made me whole again!
I carry on - knowing I am cared for;
as my journey continues . . ..

My journey is blessed . . .

Photo from The Houston Museum of Natural History / PhotoArt by KY Cady

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