J'aime Les Papillons

I've known for awhile that I have a tendency to begin my writing with an active tilt.
I like to use verbs as my introduction to assure the reader's inclusion in the forward motion of my recounting.

This time I've chosen to begin with the less common although equally popular "I..." statement to allow the person reading inside my life/head/opinion.

Regardless of my starting point, it's really the continuation that matters.
Speaking of which, this morning, as I was sitting outside, enjoying a cup of coffee and murdering my lungs with yet another cigarette, I caught a glimpse of a lovely Monarch floating with aimless intention through the leafy masterpiece framed by the archway of the porch.

Every time I see a butterfly I think of that moment with Jewelia in the white beat up grand am. Our smoke traveled skyward as that tiny royalty wove its way through the slender veins of burnt tobacco.

And to think of where I am now as opposed to then offers me a keener understanding of just how grateful I am to be...where I am, who I am, how I am...all of them.

Signs of metamorphosis never seemed so chance and beautiful.
To me.