Both of these winged creatures landed here by the lake in Maine today.

This member of an unknown species of butterfly, sadly, will never fly again. I lit a candle for it. It had landed in an enclosed space and could not lift off.

But the Great Blue Heron that fishes here on  Lovejoy Pond all summer has just arrived. He lifted off when he heard me  sneaking closer, trying to get a better closeup.

I ask myself, “Which path shall I follow?”

The path of a chance and airless death, beauty frozen in time,

or the steady winged migration of the Great Blue Heron?

I choose the heron’s path.

Liftoff is important.

(Though the butterfly is beautiful.)