Posted in 2017, Little Pool House

Sensory Overload

I first saw this fellow clinging to a confederate jasmine tendril, then seeming to slowly fall, wing over wing, into a nearby patch of grass. He looked a little frail, as though he had traveled a long way to be able to die close to heaven. Perhaps he was only inebriated. Lord knows the fragrance of those jasmine almost make me go tilt.

But what a way to go.

Author:

Living with my man and my dog in a Longleaf pine forest on Florida's Gulf coast. Cast iron head. Sweet potato pie heart.

Imagine a small wicker basket for your thoughts.

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