a butterfly muse

I sat on my stoep yesterday and was honoured with a fly by of a black butterfly with turquoise dots on its wing edges.

It flew around the kumquat tree, glanced at me, I hope, then went on in a whimsical, unhurried flight.

It was perfect, a flimsy beauty filling thirty seconds of my life, then gone forever.

Beauty, like time, does not stand still. A portrait of a beauty captures some essence but not all. A photograph though true, lacks life.

Beauty happens to you, it is a moment, like happiness, then will pass leaving a memory and a want for more.