stood out on the ridgeline
Watching the sky for the flitting
Of migrating Monarch Butterflies
Which swooped and dove and rode the air
Bound for Mexico, along some mysterious
Highway that no one understands.
If I were
winged, perhaps I’d understand
That selfless daring to just go, then,
And fly through mountains and storms
Over crazed cities and hot sands
To this unspoken ancestral place of
Death and rebirth, all conducted beyond
Thought, or fear, or reason."
Related link: NPR