Wings

As I walked back from the labyrinth last week, I stopped to admire some asters blooming crazily along the road. I was enjoying the smell of the dead leaves underfoot, and the coolness in the air. Before returning to my group of friends, to the warmth and light, the talking and the laughter, I wanted to take a moment to say a prayer for a friend who is going through a very difficult time. I sat cross-legged on the grass, on a hill just below the purple flowers, and let my hair cover my face so I could have a few minutes alone. When I looked up again, I was surrounded by monarch butterflies, perhaps a dozen of them, flitting about on the flowers. I thought about how butterflies are seen in some native traditions as messengers between heaven and earth. I watched as the last afternoon sunlight touched their bright colours – and their wings stirred the autumn sky.