I used to spend hours looking down
At the thousands of small critters
I used to look at the caterpillars
Checkered, bristle-covered enveloped bodies
As they roamed the soil for growth

A breeze, a storm
Enough to flood the land
The caterpillars gasped for air
Lost, alone.

But the sun struggled through
The storms calmed
And the caterpillars emerged from the water
Ready to fly,
Ready to metamorphosize.

Now I look up, up to the sky
and I finally see
Momentary beauty, splendid nonetheless:
Purple wings glistening through the wind.

That’s what I aspire to be.