In college we took a day trip
to watch the great monarch migration.

In the days before internet was widely used
we trusted our plans to predictable patterns
Woke early, picked up breakfast, and missed
the butterflies all together
Moving as a unit with no care for our desire to say
I was there – I knew them once –
they headed to Mexico
never to return
 
When I was a little girl somebody told me
if you touch a butterfly’s wings
it will die. It will never fly again.
I don’t know if that’s true but
I led a three car caravan the whole way back
with heavy eyelids 
and only a little swerving
because a man named Paul told me I couldn’t do it
and he’d be happy to take over
when I needed him.