Now I see the secret of making the best persons, it is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth. ~Walt Whitman
Spring butterflies have merged from their black wintry cocoons and taken to the streets of Chicago to flit in the warm exhalations of Spring.
They ascend from their depths emerging on wings painted with the flair of Gaudi, Van Gogh, Georgia. The butterflies are more colorful than boxes of flowers, more iridescent than the neck feathers of the bobble-headed pigeons searching the granite sidewalks for escaped morsels.
My eyes feast on this short season of abundance, abondanza, until their wings fall and fade into blackest oblivion and escape the icy blast cocooning the city.