Praxy Manette landed
on a smooth rock, made comfortably warm by the late autumn sun, but a chill
breeze ruffled the tips of her hindwings as she worked them closed. She
fastened prickled spines of her limbs to minute crevices till the sharp wind
abated, then tilted her head and picked up Jack Frost’s song.
I knew he’d be comin’ soon, but all’s done
that need’s doing. Eggs are laid on the strong and study stem of a ditch milkweed
I spent a week findin’, well out o’ harm’s way from the farmer in his field. All
that a mother can do is hope her young will stay safe ’nough to hatch and that their first meals be close.
Praxy glanced back
at the ditch, sighed, and scanned the road ahead as an old pickup rattled to a
stop.
A man sucked on a
white stick, then tossed it onto her rock, still smoldering.
Following the man’s
actions, she took a puff and spewed out a raucous cough and lungful of fiery
smoke. Jack’s a comin’ soon enough, so why’s
that feller in such a rush? Wings lifted, she stroked them past each other,
singing sweet notes only her unborn would know…her final farewell.
Tea Leaf Tales is a series of original
ten-sentence short stories by Marsha A. Moore, relating to photos/scenes that
resonate with her.
*~*~*
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