I was walking through the cemetery this morning and I came upon a single monarch butterfly. It was flying about 15 feet above my head and in a perfectly straight line. It was flying south. No kidding. Contrasted with the cloudy sky, the orange of that thing nearly knocked me off my feet.

I remembered a friend telling me about the monarch migration he witnessed last week, one state south of us. “Hurry up,” I said out loud, “you have to catch up” and then I burst into tears. First, because I realized there was a very good chance that butterfly would not make it and then because I realized I feel like that poor, late insect almost all of the time.