Better Than Ashes

I had a dream last night that butterflies started to stream into the room and land in my hair. They covered my head and shoulders, all shapes, colors and sizes, and began to mate.

“Stay still,” others informed me, “be careful and let them do what they are doing.”

And I could barely feel their flutter against my forehead, on my neck. Some couples landed on my forearms, tiny and connected they made their butterfly love and I watched, and I sat still and let them.