July 2nd, 2011
I was busy in the kitchen and turned around to see this furry creature on the door. I was so excited and thought it was so cute–I dragged Ulysses over to look and then we read caterpillar books and drew caterpillars and talked about metamorphosis and how the caterpillars turn into butterflies. And then R came home and looked around the web and nixed the hype. Fuzzy caterpillars are all moths, of which we have quite a few of the large icky gross kind that hang around our entryways at night, scaring off guests and sending shivers down my spine. So I was less excited obviously and I have seen a number of these around now too. Sad.
It is finally starting to feel like summer around here. Ulysses loves the plethora of daisies we have growing in the back yard, probably because it is the only thing I let him pick. He picks only the pink ones, which pile around his feet and were too incredibly cute not to snap a picture of, or write a little poem about.
I catch the songs you sing
like butterflies in a jar.
They flutter there for a spell
and at once I feel badly for catching them and badly for letting them go
Watchful, tinkering, melodies
you hear me and
stand straight, little one.
fall hard on the camelia
You bring me dahlias
You pray for daisies
toppleside, posies, ashes
And with bright eyes you start again
familiar chords wrapped around familiar words wrapped around you
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