Changing forms in midair is de rigueur
    for mating mariposas; little wonder they
    attract curious attention about how love
    makes them ape the graceful twists
    of aerialists locked in prurient embrace
    even if they had no feelings for each other.
    It’s when they come closer to my legs
    that they become wary of each other,
    just as I become weary of being alone.
    If they perch on my legs, I would be part
    of creation, the one that multiplies, leave
    them alone until satiated, they fly elsewhere,
    change sizes, and merge again wherever
    gardens require them to bring in the worms.

    —Albert B. Casuga

    1. This response was meant for the previous post on butterflies:

      A red admiral butterfly that keeps changing sizes turns out to be two butterflies, wary of each other, wary about perching on my legs.—Dave Bonta, The Morning Porch, 06-21-12

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