Two black cats in the dark Form shadows under the stars, Sisters in orbit; They swirl ’round this empty lot, Golden eyes shooting sparks On an otherwise quiet eve. I hardly dare breathe As they sketch themselves into being— Coal-cut smudged shapes, Question-mark tails— Living art in this lifeless park. My hands grow damp, Sprouting butterfly wings. I whirl them in the night wind; I have no use for dreams.
“Oh, my Ganesha, Ellie!” Twiggy stared at her friend. “What did you do to your ears?”
Ellie turned her head from side to side. “Don’t you like them? I saved up and got tattooed for my birthday.”
Twiggy trunked up some honeysuckle, chewed, and swallowed. “They’re very colorful, but I don’t understand why you’d want to change your natural elephant beauty.”
“Because of the butterfly effect,” Ellie explained. “The idea is that I can have a large effect upon the world by simply fluttering my ears. Isn’t that cool?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Twiggy scoffed. “Flutter now and see what happens.”
Ellie fluttered, and the sky stayed cloudy, the birds kept chirping in the trees, and a crocodile crawled out of the river right on schedule. “Maybe you’re right, Twigs. Let’s go hang at the Giraffe Patch. I don’t like the way Crocky is staring at us.”
As the elephants lumbered off, a lion caught the scent of honeysuckle that Ellie’s ears had rippled through the air. Ick, he thought, I hate sweets, and he scampered away from the area. Soon he encountered a truck full of tourists aka lunch. But they screamed and banged pans, which annoyed him, so he ran back and ate a gazelle that his wife had prepared earlier.
On the truck, a woman said to her fiancé, “That was a close one. And why were you hiding under the blanket while the rest of us were scaring off the lion?”
“I uh was looking for a gun,” the man replied.
“We don’t have guns! You know that.”
Disgusted with his cowardice, she broke their engagement and married Oleksandr Zelensky instead.
Today’s theme from Jim is literally BUGGING me! I was gonna choose a cute kid’s song, but then I remembered one of my favorite “normal” songs ~ Bob Lind’s “Elusive Butterfly.” This is such a pretty, dreamy tune I can listen to it over and over again.
You might wake up some mornin’ To the sound of something moving past your window in the wind And if you’re quick enough to rise You’ll catch a fleeting glimpse of someone’s fading shadow Out on the new horizon You may see the floating motion of a distant pair of wings And if the sleep has left your ears You might hear footsteps running through an open meadow…
Bob Lind wrote and recorded “Elusive Butterfly” in late 1965, and in early 1966 it reached No. 5 on the Billboard Hot 100 and also the adult contemporary chart. In Australia, it hit No. 2. At the time, EB was on the B-side of “Cheryl’s Goin’ Home” because no one felt that EB would be a hit. But when Cheryl met with a meh reception, DJ’s began playing EB and listeners loved it. Then the single was re-released with EB on the A-side. Bob said he wrote the song around sunrise after pulling an all-nighter in 1964. He wanted to portray the energy we feel when chasing after someone or something that may be a bit beyond our reach ~ the life-affirming feeling that is perhaps more profound during the pursuit than after we attain the goal (if we ever do). I can relate to this on many levels. (Wikipedia)
On the search for love? Muzzle your passion. If you feel affection blossoming, act like you don’t care, lest you scare your fragile dream away with an emotional display. Flit and mingle, flower to flower, like a delirious butterfly. Keep your feelings quiet, battened down like petals in the rain.
Everyone on the street called him Stone. He was tough, ruthless, and got the job done. He didn’t seek out violence, but when it became necessary he acted quickly and efficiently.
When she came along, broken and beautiful, they named her Butterfly. Stone protected her, for he remembered how it was to be fragile. Wherever she flitted, he stopped to admire her gold-dusted delicacy. But the jealous ones plotted to drive her away with lies.
After she left, Stone crumbled to pieces and scattered himself in the places she’d been, his grief mingling with the ethereal traces of love.
I wish I had pulled the wings Off your poisoned apology When it came fluttering in So unexpectedly, Soft as butter in a boiled sun. But it was so lovely, Spun in delicate glory, With colorful backstory; I held out my hands, Everything forgiven.
Apologies from men Have been rare as Monarchs, And I breathed in that golden dust From your I’m sorry like a drug, More potent than the heady bliss Of your up against the brick wall kiss. As bruised clouds slid past The last light of that languorous day, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… You whispered in sticky magnificence, Sucking me into a sugar net seduction I should have shot down.
I wish I had heard how hollow Your sham regrets rang, How they held no tomorrow, Instead of feeling hypnotized By the Blue Morpho Of your eyes. But it had been so long… And you’re a charismatic guy; That apology trapped me tight In the crystal jar of your lies.
But only once: When the glass breaks, It shatters. No molten gold Can hold Your broken soul together.
Light Motifs II 