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