Chasing Butterflies

Growing up, Sarah and I
Always chased butterflies.

One Afternoon, while our mother
Mowed the back grass, we knelt
On the top of the hill that
Overlooked the entire yard and
Burried a butterfly
In a little patch of dirt.

Seconds after its funeral
We decided to dig it up again.

As we pawned through the
Dirt, still chasing butterflies,
Our mother, sweaty and pale,
Yelled at us to get out of the dirt
And find something better to do.