As much as I try to fight it, I find my best work is disjointed one and two line segments: This was written last week as I observed the monarch butterfly migration while at work: I love coffee and the sunrise--but there’s no greater joy than in a butterfly’s kiss. Two butterflies move like supplementing wavelengths in syncopation -flying tall. It’s the rhythm that carries them beyond the wall. "The wind whisp's at window breaks... My thoughts and words it yonder takes... But the butterfly sheltered in the leaves... Finds its footing in the breeze..." All insects have the same three parts. Not me though… I also have a butterfly’s wings! There is freedom in flight and anarchy in the pattern of a butterfly.