Goines On: Butterfly, fly

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The butterfly Goines had seen bedded down the previous evening on the outside of the screen of his back porch was fluttering in the same area of the screen this morning. Goines wondered why it was fluttering against the screen like that, as though it wanted in? And he realized it wasn’t trying to get in, but get out. And it hadn’t been bedded down outside last night, but had probably just given up for then trying to get out. And now it must be thirsty and hungry and near desperation.
    He propped both side doors open, retrieved the broom from the corner, and proceeded to try to gently prod the butterfly to the door to the left. He prodded it past the first vertical roof support and as far as the corner support, where the butterfly seemed trapped. It had fluttered down to a horizontal support behind the glider bench. Goines laid the broom down and cupped his hands to surround the butterfly, if possible.
    It worked smoothly and immediately! The weightless creature submitted to his hands for Goines’ walk out the door to a boxwood along his brick patio – their brick patio, for it was the butterfly’s brick patio too. Goines had watched numerous other butterflies – maybe this butterfly itself – flitting among the flowers beyond the boxwoods, their home, their habitat.
    This butterfly may have found a porch door open yesterday and ventured in....Goines uncupped his hands and the butterfly bounced briefly on the boxwood before flitting out into the flowers beyond. Goines hoped the creature felt as jubilant as he did. In all his years he had not, that he could remember, held a butterfly in his hands.

Walt Whitman used a fake
butterfly for this photo op

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