Of the Tiger Butterfly Tribe

Danaus, Part I

This caterpillar, no other.
She hatched from a particular
Monarch egg.
Her bright stripes of yellow and black and white,
I spotted on the milkweed.
Not just any caterpillar.
This one, whom I saw grow fat.
The one I watched one day
disappear
into a chrysalis the exact green of the leaves.

Not just any caterpillar,
this one
attached her end to a leaf,
hung upside down,
split her exoskeleton at her head.
This caterpillar
slowly discharged a thin silk shawl,
and covered herself with its length.
And just before she went to metamorphic sleep,
just before the sea-green chrysalis
would sew itself closed,
her shape wriggled fiercely inside.
I watched while from the top of the cocoon,
she tossed away the bundle of her skin.

Every day I stare at her cocoon,
wondering, what must it be like
to let one’s body parts dissolve,
to experience their transformation
into the parts of another creature.
The jewel of her chrysalis darkens –
Is it bliss in there? – into mystery.

The egg she started from
was laid by Mama in October,
so the butterfly will be
this year’s generation Four,
the ones that lives ten times as long.
Though I doubt this creature I watch
gives any thought to future journeys.
I think transfiguration
likely rates her full attention.
She’s occupied entirely,
focused so intently,
surrendering so completely,
that she seizes my devotion too.
I watch the chrysalis and wonder,
what must it be like, inside?

Danaus (dä ná ōs) of the Tiger Butterfly Tribe, commonly called monarchs, tigers, milkweeds, wanderers, or queens

Danaus, Part II

Not just any butterfly, this one,
still a worm when first I knew her.
The one I got to watch
wriggle out of her caterpillar skin
while she wove her sock of silk.
I didn’t see her burst
the chrysalis this morning,
but when I woke, she was
a brandnew creature testing her strength.

Wings of filmy stained glass,
delicate legs, feet that can taste.
Velvet body, spotted head
quivering antennae gossamer perfect.
A queenly monarch priming for first flight.
Four full hours she took
to warm, to practice, to gather herself.
I sipped my coffee,
and both of us waited
for sun to touch my patio.

And then she lifted to air.
I watched her flutter up, sailing her zigzag way.
The crawling one could fly!
While I held my breath,
she glided in my garden,
letting the little breeze become her easy friend
Then I watched her beauty rise
high against the blue of sky.
I think of her
finding a wider world.
I think of us
trying to transform our species.
May our own evolving be as exquisite
as this very particular caterpillar’s.
I blow a kiss and wish her well
on her birthday as a butterfly.

©Susa Silvermarie 2023