Today I spent the day throwing small rocks at butterflies.
Small, therapy because throwing large rocks is overkill, and besides that, somewhat tiring.
I made some calculations, F=ma, and others.
But brute force number crunching and esoteric mathematics offered few practical solutions.
I just kept missing those smug little bastards.
Except this one, who took a small oblong stone straight on the thorax,
sending it reeling through the air,
reeling backwards into lens-flared unknown,
backwards in time,
to right what had once went wrong
hoping that with each small-rock-thorax-impact,
the next leap
would be the leap home.