Greg Tonian, 2017 –
Ideas are like Fireflies, Brief flashes in the dark, blinking. Talk is cheap, Life’s opportunities fleeting. Dreams evaporate. Yet Sara put mettle to pedal, She set out on her quest, Before it was too late. Her goal was simple yet mad. It would require lots of planning, Lots of charts, Though she wanted to be spontaneous, A journey of this type, Had many moving parts. Courage and persistence she did not lack She simply bicycled with the Monarchs, From Mexico to Canada and back. 10,201 miles, 232 days, Travelling countless byways. She sought out the Monarchs in their winter homeland, Orange and black papel picado banners Draped on the pines, At Sanctuario El Rosario in Michoacan. They rested, waiting for a signal to fly North. These papalotl, so-called by the Nahuatl. Sacred messengers of the people. Sending their wishes of joy and happiness To the Flower Goddess. Together, Sara and the butterflies, Set out in March. She pumped pedal Ground her gears, They simply floated upward, into blue skies. They flew straight over cloud shrouded mountains, She zig zagged over and around them. She made wrong turns, That was inevitable, The butterflies pressed on, They were both unflappable. The first stop was Texas, Seeking Milkweed, Time was running out, Eggs were laid, Soon harlequin caterpillars began to feed. Sara, too, had work to do, Her ambassador role was came into play, To spread the word about Monarchs Without delay. She was a true “spokes” person, A self-designated “butterbiker”, a Johnny Appleseed typer. Only she was planting seeds of hope So more people became aware, That Monarchs were indeed deserving of care. Sara reunited with advocates across the Americas, of the Monarch, of the Prairie. Presenting her mission to children of all ages, Following an ambitious itinerary. Along the way, She rescued caterpillars and snakes, Turtles and frogs. A patch of milkweed in a roadside ditch, Would make her slam on her brakes! While she sweated and panted, Wings flapped. While she nibbled on power bars, Her muses, nectar did lap. Iron woman, Iron butterfly. Athletic, Poetic, Prophetic, Peripatetic. Both breaking boundaries and borders, The butterflies did not care, Sara had challenges getting from here to there. She rode on through wind, sun and rain, Ignored fatigue, saddle sores and cramping pain. Dodged cars and trucks along the way, By them, Many butterflies were slain. She asked mowers to stop mowing, They were destroying milkweeds, Where the caterpillars were growing. She worried that the crops had been sprayed, Impacting plants where eggs had been laid. In the end, she and the papalotl prevailed, 4 generations came and went, Time well spent. They returned again to Michoacan, Great, great, great, great granddaughter and Great, great, great, great grandson, Quivering garlands on the trees, Sara and the monarchs were reunited, Taking in their presence, Their journeys now ended, She couldn’t have been more pleased! She is a Heroine, Her story a modern day Iliad. Read this work. You will be glad you did! One part perspiration, One part determination, Unending Inspiration. She will call to you To follow her lead. So listen and learn, Her voice, one to heed.
