Woke early as the sun angled to our south-facing-ocean left, coloring eyes vivid, and green branches and terra cotta and the fresh gang of walkers under the palm trees downtown, in order to drop Silby at the bus that would take her to LAX and she flew away for two weeks. Taking advantage of this early start, worming it, I drove to the lab for my late tests; supposed to be tested two months ago as we monitor the kidneys which are unraveling as I write and you read and we dance our mortality. I watched the red and purple blood flow. Taxes they say are one of two guarantees; the other heading this section: I dropped off signed copies and retrieved our returns from the accountant. I drove to the nearby ATM and deposited a check and remembered to bring a pen from the car. The car drove me into the slanting light – amazing what one can accomplish so darn early in the excellent living morning – along Mountain Drive and I turned into our lane. The wind was blowing and I saw them then. First fifty, then hundreds, and over the next three hours, as I sat on the deck and watched them, in deep, scorching sunshine like the missionaries from Baja must have known, thousands upon more thousands of Monarchs flutter-bying, in a hurry, going somewhere. Like an animated sped-up film of the insect world. I stood in their path and they swerved to avoid me as they would a tree. None stopped to browse the nectar around us; they flew, many wings intense, purposeful.
