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The third of my four Writers' Group offerings:
Dear Caterpillar, you are munching on the leaf of my radish plant, blissfully unaware. Do you remember your past as an egg? Probably not. I am certain you can't anticipate your future as a king of the butterflies -- a Monarch.
Shall I lift you from your gourmet table? Your fuzzy back is so soft; I think not. Soon your leaf eating days will be behind you. You will make the chrysalis to surround your body and fast for fourteen days.
Will you dream of green radish leaves? Will you be asleep as strange changes take place in your body or do you feel each evolution? Your metamorphosis. When you break free of your papery brown enclosure will you have forgotten radish leaves or do you look at them with longing as you sip upon the nectar of the blossoms in my garden with your long proboscis snout? Or have you put away childish things?
Do you dream of distant lands, of vacations in the sun? As you pack your non-existent bag for Mexico and lift your wings skyward, will you miss my radish leaves that nurtured you along? Or do you revel in the moment; after all, you can fly.