My bones stand naked in my skin. Time to metamorphize, shed my carapace that was worn to transparency by living, simply living day by day, minute to minute.
Butterflies are transient beauties, the proverbial blazing meteor across a night sky.
They die, these fluttering angels, after their nuptial flights. Snakes live through many frosty winters. They resurrect themselves each spring and flick out their tongues to taste the air, find their mates and survive the mating. Cold blooded, slithering, slow, earthbound, forked tongued, and craftier than Eve, I'll be a snake.