The Butterfly Man
There once was a man who stole his happiness from the flowers of the garden. He spent his days dreaming of sweet nectar and dusty pollen. He would not share his beautiful garden with anyone. Not the birds, not the bees, not any one. One day he watched as a monarch flew haltingly across his yard. Before he could chase it away, the dying butterfly lay down on the center of a pink aster. It took one last drink, closed its wings and moved no more. The man took the butterfly into his hand. He studied the beautiful orange wings and fuzzy spots on its belly. He stood there transfixed. Never had he noticed the beauty of anything other than his flowers. He began to feel lonely, standing there in his lovely garden. He was alone… no birds, no bees, no butterflies, not any one… and his heart cracked. He put away his poisons, his traps, his nets, his swatters… and he set out fruit and honey and red colored feeders. Soon there was music in his garden… a buzz, a tweet, a chirp, a hum. But his favorite song was the silence of butterfly wings… He no longer stole his happiness. It was freely given…
My project for June… “Face Lines… and Story Lines”
A quick line drawing and an improvised story… Nothing thought out ahead, just a quick play of whatever comes into my mind.
We’ll see if I can do one of these for every day of this coming month… wish me luck!