Migration over but not National Poetry Month
The Painted Ladies have hustled through the Bay Area and are reportedly in farther Northern California now. I don’t know if I could have stood it for another day, so many dustings of delicate purpose rolling by without cease (except at night). The butterflies left are black and tiny white, and far fewer. It felt as if I was holding my breath for a week. National Poetry Month rolls on, however, and along with it…