After we went out on Friday night
wolfed down a couple burgers
and an overabundance of Cuervo
I sat on Saturday’s morning porch
(more than just a little hungover;
certainly not hungry for breakfast)
I watched two bright blue gladiators
—a jay and an indigo bunting—
play Tug-O’-War over a caterpillar.
And when I was a kid, I saw a crow
on the treehouse window frame
gobbling down a Monarch butterfly:
two quick chomps was all it took;
the bug was gone but the wings,
apparently indigestible, remained.
I know there’s a lesson here somewhere
but I’m damned if I can figure it out.
Caterpillars become butterflies but, ummm…
—————[|||]—————
Poets And Storytellers United
Weekly Scribble #73
~ Butterflies and Moths ~
———[||]———
Scrambled, Not Fried 
Sometimes, I think, we can only observe.
Yummm…
I don’t humans are fair judges of others creatures eating habits as we are the most irrational and greedy happy to eat everything regardless of our need.
Maybe the wings tickle too much on the way down that they aren’t worth the trouble.
Maybe there isn’t a lesson, or it was just another one of life’s lessons, something we have to accept and let go. I like the way you went from a hungover morning to the butterfly wings uneaten. I would imagine watching a caterpillar tug-of-war wouldn’t have helped your stomach!
Apparently both are at risk of becoming Saturday night’s dinner!
… have another Cuervo!
What Rosemary said, I think. The alternative pushes us (all right, pushes me) to consider some truths I’m not quite I wish to deal with right now.