Spirits Are Here

Dogs are howling at the front door There is nothing out there. Not a man, not a woman, not a child, not a bird. My husband opens the door. Buddy chases something – a butterfly. Our other dog, Sophie, holds back. I see another butterfly glide past six trees. A wide swoop for any Monarch. Butterflies are everywhere now. Fitting and flirting, swooping and sweeping. Spirit must be here, in my magical forest. Is this why we got up from our naps? I smile, watching soul truth glide around. In the form of butterflies.