A chrysalis unfurls in dreams a thousand times before it lives the scene.
I found a pupa by the stream.
It was larger than a garbage can lid, and pulsating yellow bubbles moved inside.
I built a shrine of river stones and to each rock I sang a tone while placing it.
I sang a tone to vibrate and reverberate and rehydrate that which once was full of life but now is parched.
That which once hatched may hatch again.
a crack
a split
a second chance
and an agonizing journey in between - one form lies dead and discarded and another form is still unfurling.
