Walking out to my trailer after lunch yesterday I got distracted by the mesmerizing scene of a pair of butterflies dancing over the decomposed granite. Just a couple of ordinary little snouts, working these magical little vortexes, never touching yet yoked like the dipoles of a gyroscope, the courtship of confetti. So much more elegant than the dragonflies, who fly around the yard while locked in coitus, maybe even snacking on smaller airborne prey along the way.
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