An Aerial Choreography

If I was a butterfly too, I would flutter with you.

If I was as airy and light, and not bound by the ground,

I would dance along to the sound of your song.

They fluttered around me as I stood quietly. One, two, three dark swallowtails plus a couple others with a small orange one among them. They danced an elaborate aerial choreography, unrehearsed and spontaneous as they circled, wove in and out, and spiraled higher and lower. Their dance was silent but for the nearly imperceptible beat of wings. Sometimes they flew so near each other that I was sure I could hear their wingtips brush. A skipper must have been among them, for when he flew past my ear his flight sounded much louder and more akin to the buzz of a bee than the delicate flutter of his fellow Lepidopterans. For a moment I was frightened, thinking he might be a stinging insect, then I realized my mistake and laughed out loud, relieved that it was a skipper and almost honored that he was bold enough to venture so close to me. The butterflies danced so effortlessly, so playfully upon the air. If I wasn’t such a large, clunky creature myself, I would certainly join them. Maybe they wondered at a giant like me, at how I could remain on solid ground and not take off into the sky, for there was so much space to play and flitter through.