The Last of the Monarchs

I saw the last of the Monarchs today flying low above the ground. Their wild orange and black wings stood out in gorgeous contrast against the serenity of the blue sky and white cotton clouds. They flitted about looking for summer's late bloomers only to find colorful cars and brightly clothed people instead. I wondered if they would find what they were looking for. How long would they hunt before finding the nectar filled ecstasy they so desperately sought?

In a short time the Monarchs will be gone like the flowers of the lilac that wilted months before. They will lay their eggs on the understated milkweed and vanish for another long, northern winter. For now they fly through the air searching, like lost souls, hoping to find a stray piece of heaven in one of the languishing red clover blossoms that once speckled my yard like so many stars.

When they are gone I will not mourn them. I know that in the spring I will see them in their splendor once more. Until then I will light a candle for the Monarchs, to remember their journey and that of all souls who have been lost and found their way home again.