Monday, December 9, 2013

Monarch Butterflies Black And Yellow~

Its seems so long ago now that I think of it. In many ways I was a different writer back then.I noticed this in reading some of the writing I managed to save from the old days-printed old fashioned like on white paper.
What I managed to save is small morsels of the way my mind used to think, much differently from now in the ways of writing.I suppose, with the shifts of life and with the stages we pass through we change, and so with it our style of writing.

This piece of writing I share with you was written and posted on my blog within an old writing community called Journalspace, October,13th,2003.I dedicated it to a writing friend named,Tearsong.
And of course you must know...I re-edited this piece against my better judgment as I typed it out to you.Much didn't change however, other than the odd added word to add to the vision.My vision now.
Hope you enjoy this simple piece of long ago.

~Yellow And Black~

Olivia kneeled down on the freshly mowed lawn.
The sun beamed happy rays of warmth on her crisp cotton sundress spread out over her knees.
A slight breeze set free a thin tendril of blonde hair which Olivia had neatly tucked behind a butterfly clip in the morning.She grabbed at the freeing hair with poetic hands and swished it into place.
Above her is a Weeping Willow tree,lightly swaying in the afternoon breeze-a haven for little singing birds that would serenely fall in tune.
Olivia looked up to the blue sky past the Willow tree-holding up her arm to shield the sun and breathed in all the sweet scents of the earth.She was feeling profoundly complete, and at peace with herself.She then kneeled over, and with a gentle stroke of her hand, pushed aside the dried grass that remained on the stone.A warm smile entered her face with feelings of love surrounding her.

Olivia sat for sometime there celebrating the memories and, honoring all that needed to be cherished, when suddenly, like a symbolic gesture, a cluster of butterflies bestowed her soft moment with surprise.
She stretched out her thin arm and one by one the gracious Monarch's softly landed.They danced up and down her arm, fluttering their wings in glee.She marveled over them.The butterflies brought about the sense of well being-a peace and hope of everlasting faith to carry on.Whatever that faith might be.

A warm wind with a familiar scent surrounded Olivia, out of nowhere she noticed when the Monarch's arrived.Then they no sooner took flight and circled above her head three times before forming a halo like-shape and vanished as mysteriously as they came.
Dazed, she stood up and brushed down her cotton dress, smiling the whole while as she then gathered up her things and slowly walked down the pretty treed path, the path from which an hour ago she walked up.Streaks of yellow and black fluttered behind the unknowing Olivia the whole way.

The soft breeze of the afternoon tousled loose a few dried leaves around to the point they covered the single stone under the Willow tree.No sooner the light wind blew free the leaves and sent then tumbling away to show the delicate carving in the stone-a mother's name and etching of Monarch butterflies.Black and yellow.

Dee L.

Tearsong was a blogger on Journalspace from which I inspired to dedicate this writing to.If my memory serves me right he had lost his mother.I felt her.I feel many things I don't understand.


  1. Hi Dee I did not remember this entry from our J/S days but I do really love it! You know, I do the same thing from time to time, that is go back and reread some of my old writings. I too, can see a big difference from then til now. And believe it or not I have been thinking about putting some of my "old' stuff on this blog. Not for sure yet as I am in the midst of some more changes in my personal life so we will have to just wait and see. I hope you share some more of your "old" writings with us. As always I leave with best wishes to you and yours always. "HUGS" my dear friend.

  2. Hi Cap, my friend.Yes to differences with writing over the years.I think I was more imaginative back then.Wish like the dickens to conjure up such images again.

    I'd love to read some of your old writing,Cap.We all were and still are so much better after reading you.You have this ability to make one think in a different manner.I like that.Sometimes we have one track minds that need diversion:)

    I hope in closing here that the changes from which you speak of are not hindering.Many hugs to you friend.Take care of yourself.