Homing Instinct

Monarchs just know where to go
Shock of orange and black against electric California skies
Landing exactly where they should be.

I stood in their grove in Santa Cruz
Shoulder to shoulder with an old friend
But it was only the beginning of October.

Within a couple of weeks it would be full, she told me
Eucalyptus branches weighed down with clusters of butterflies
Swirling and flickering in shafts of evening sunlight.

We saw the early arrivals
Dazzle against the glossy leaves
Just two or three who had already made it.

The Monarchs just know.
When you know, you know.
I raise my eyes into the blue, wide enough for answers that aren’t there.

Can we come back to each other?
Can we come back from this?
I remember the butterflies, and I don’t know how to find a way home together.