work in progress

As the wind moves the leaves in Autumn, so it begins to graze the wings of the Monarchs, whispering a secret song so enticing that their wings intch to fly, to move, to be carried with the winds to a distant land where the sun rarely hides and the trees keep their leaves and all the orange-winged bugs gather. But what is left behind to weather the storms of snow and cold as it encases the land and covers the leaves on the ground until a new Spring? Sadness may linger in the wind, but it is taken, too, to a warmer place inside her chest, to be stored until a new Spring brings them back.