Butterfly Whisperer

"There's another Swallowtail in the potting shed." She peered through the glass and wondered if the camera in her pocket would do the scene justice.

The palm-sized yellow-and-black butterfly gently fluttered its wings. It perched on a heavy wooden beam, the contrast between its delicate beauty and the sturdy post obvious.

"But I just liberated five of them." Shaking a mop of black curls, he headed into the small building. "How do they get themselves stuck in here, anyway?"

"Who knows if they're stuck? They might just be visiting, you know."

Emerging with the butterfly cupped in his hands, he stood in the doorway for a long moment. He turned to her and smiled. Their gazes locked and she felt warm beneath his stare. Once more he shook his head. "Always an optimist, aren't you? You look for the best in everything, don't you?"

He opened his hands, holding them high. The Swallowtail seemed in no rush to leave his palm. Its wings spread wide, tickling his fingertips. Time stood still as they stared. Waited.

Their breath caught as they watched it lift off. The butterfly circled, inches above their heads. Then the Swallowtail sailed off into the treetops, a patch of brightness in the otherwise clear sky.
"And you're not? An optimist, that is?"

She heard him sigh. He pulled her close, held her tight against his side. He chuckled. "Maybe I am at that. I guess we're a matched pair, aren't we?"

"Seems that way. Yeah, it sure seems that way." She looked up at him and grinned. "And there's one more visitor waiting for you in the potting shed."

"A visitor, huh?"

"Yup. A visitor."