Pursuit

The more I pursue bugs, the more they pursue me.

Need proof?

This one was waiting for me, right outside The Lemon Fair door. Resting, I think, proboscis curled, wings briefly opened, then closed, the Pipevine Swallowtail napped in a bit of shadow protected from searing heat.

I snapped a few photos, walked to the post office, packed and got in the car, and backed out, glancing at the wall, empty then, butterfly nowhere in sight.

Kismet. It must have been. Surely we were fated to make the other's acquaintance.

OK, far-fetched, I know.

But today I choose to think it.