Yeah, I have a poetic license. I just forget to use it sometimes...

An Open Letter To My Butterfly Bush

Dear Butterfly Bush,

            I am so sorry that I left you untended in the six weeks that have passed since you became mine, and I became yours. You nearly collapsed under the weight of all those wilted flowers that expired in service to the good and kind butterfly community that inhabits our neighborhood. Although I knew it was happening, and I winced with regret each day I looked out the kitchen window and saw fewer and fewer butterflies fluttering to visit you, I was too stuck in my muck to help you survive yours.

            But that is over now, Butterfly Bush. That is done. And so, it is with gentle hands that I will try to move through and around and with you, trimming the slack and releasing you from your burdens. It will be such a joy to watch you spring back to life, stretch tall to meet the sun, and thrive once more.

            You see, Butterfly Bush, a little boy taught me something yesterday, and it is my pleasure to share this lesson with you: We are all breads and knives. I am sorry I have been heavy with my knife-ness lately. I promise to work harder to be better, and I hope together we will celebrate our growth and mutual sustenance.

In friendship and with love,

Wendy

PS: Of course, sometimes I will fail at this life, Butterfly Bush. So I ask you, no I beg you, to forgive me.