 |
| (Photo by jmadjedi / CC BY-NC 2.0) |
The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.
~Rabindranath Tagor
The annual migration of monarch butterflies to Mexico is one of nature's most awe-inspiring spectacles. After Matt Forrest Esenwine's beautiful haiku from earlier this week, I wanted to spend a little more time with these regal creatures. For those of you who have never seen migration footage, here is a video taken at El Rosario Monarch Butterfly Sanctuary in 2011.
The video opens with a statement that 150 million monarchs came back in the 2010-2011 season despite a devastating cold storm that killed off millions. Since then, the monarch population has faced much worse threats, causing their numbers to plunge in 2013 to the lowest level in at least 20 years. This is according to an article in the New York Times from March of last year. The article goes on to say that while the monarchs' plight is not yet at a crisis point, there are things we can and must do with regard to replenishing milkweed and changing some farming practices. Once again, humans are pushing the limits of what our planet can sustain.
And on that note, I'd like to leave you with this poem by Joan Murray:
Chrysalis
by Joan Murray1
It's mid-September, and in the Magic Wing Butterfly Conservancy
in Deerfield, Massachusetts, the woman at the register
is ringing up the items of a small girl and her mother.
There are pencils and postcards and a paperweight--
all with butterflies--and, chilly but alive,
three monarch caterpillars--in small white boxes
with cellophane tops, and holes punched in their sides.
The girl keeps rearranging them like a shell game
while the cashier chats with her mother: "They have to
feed on milkweed--you can buy it in the nursery outside."
"We've got a field behind our house," the mother answers.
The cashier smiles to show she didn't need the sale:
"And in no time, they'll be on their way to Brazil or Argentina--
or wherever they go--" ("to Mexico," says the girl,
though she's ignored) "and you can watch them
do their thing till they're ready to fly."
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16237#sthash.6Eqs0Y07.dpufChrysalis
by Joan Murray1
It's mid-September, and in the Magic Wing Butterfly Conservancy
in Deerfield, Massachusetts, the woman at the register
is ringing up the items of a small girl and her mother.
There are pencils and postcards and a paperweight--
all with butterflies--and, chilly but alive,
three monarch caterpillars--in small white boxes
with cellophane tops, and holes punched in their sides.
The girl keeps rearranging them like a shell game
while the cashier chats with her mother: "They have to
feed on milkweed--you can buy it in the nursery outside."
"We've got a field behind our house," the mother answers.
The cashier smiles to show she didn't need the sale:
"And in no time, they'll be on their way to Brazil or Argentina--
or wherever they go--" ("to Mexico," says the girl,
though she's ignored) "and you can watch them
do their thing till they're ready to fly."
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16237#sthash.6Eqs0Y07.dpufChrysalis
by Joan Murray1
It's mid-September, and in the Magic Wing Butterfly Conservancy
in Deerfield, Massachusetts, the woman at the register
is ringing up the items of a small girl and her mother.
There are pencils and postcards and a paperweight--
all with butterflies--and, chilly but alive,
three monarch caterpillars--in small white boxes
with cellophane tops, and holes punched in their sides.
The girl keeps rearranging them like a shell game
while the cashier chats with her mother: "They have to
feed on milkweed--you can buy it in the nursery outside."
"We've got a field behind our house," the mother answers.
The cashier smiles to show she didn't need the sale:
"And in no time, they'll be on their way to Brazil or Argentina--
or wherever they go--" ("to Mexico," says the girl,
though she's ignored) "and you can watch them
do their thing till they're ready to fly."
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16237#sthash.6Eqs0Y07.dpufby Joan Murray
1
It's mid-September
It's mid-September, and in the Magic Wing Butterfly Conservancyin Deerfield, Massachusetts, the woman at the register
is ringing up the items of a small girl and her mother.
There are pencils and postcards and a paperweight--
all with butterflies--and, chilly but alive,
three monarch caterpillars--in small white boxes
with cellophane tops, and holes punched in their sides.
The girl keeps rearranging them like a shell game
while the cashier chats with her mother: "They have to
feed on milkweed--you can buy it in the nursery outside."
"We've got a field behind our house," the mother answers.
The cashier smiles to show she didn't need the sale:
"And in no time, they'll be on their way to Brazil or Argentina--
or wherever they go--" ("to Mexico," says the girl,
though she's ignored) "and you can watch them
do their thing till they're ready to fly."
You can read the rest here.
Next, why don't you migrate over to No Water River, where Renée LaTulippe is hosting today's Poetry Friday roundup and spreading her wings with an exciting new adventure of her own!
