sǝuoſ ǝuıɥsunS | notebook, journal, inter-web log

What a surprise to find you there, softly clinging to my sleeve. I pause and wonder at your beauty, and delicate progress. A blessing. I can not leave you there, unprotected, clinging to my jacket. I offer my finger tip to you. You extend antennae and inspect me. I seem warm, textured and suitable, so you unfold your delicate legs and climb aboard. You make steady progress to the palm of my hand, soft little feet tapping against my skin. I raise you up for a better look. Strange white markings, they look like eyes, shiny red shell, wet, black head, matte black legs. Sweet blessing. You do not stay with me, my interest is not enough to keep you here. I assure you that it’s ok, but you do not speak my language. You make a path back up to my finger tip. I imagine for a moment that this will be your new home, and I will look after you. But before my questions about what to feed you are answered, your hidden wings appear, and in a flurry, you are gone.

Your blessings are an awkward surprise. If you had been a cockroach, or a dung beetle I might have had quite a different reaction to you. Slapping at my jacket, screaming like a little boy, “Ew! Ack! Get it off of me!” I might have had to spend a few minutes regaining my composure, and check more than once to be sure you were actually gone. But because you are so small, and bright, and delightful, I am warm and feel so loved that you chose my sleeve to cling to, my finger as the launch pad for your flight.