Night Travelling

by Trevor Parker

Amazement; a feeling that fills me as the horizon passes.

Red rock cliffs alone solemnly salute the setting sun.

Mountain and hill rising majestically from desert floor;

They circle round me as earthy ripples of God’s splendor.

The hills are clear, the hills are pure,

Ornamented with only the simplest brush.

They are unafraid to reach up and touch the heavens that,

In the fading light,

Hang low and seemingly bow down to meet the earth.

The noble blue sky fades to gray,

An inevitable progression to black.

The sun casts the last of its warm glow over the western rim of creation;

A warm orange reminder that the sun will return in the not so distant future.

The red cliffs and hills grasp at the light as it slowly slides away.

The fires of the sun, dwindling reluctantly,

Are finally extinguished in mere temporal defeat of night.

Through Cities we pass, past towns we speed.

Green fields lay in peace,

Slowly vanishing into the dark.

Trees rest from the day’s breezes.

And as the eye passes from their silent boughs

The first glint of light awakes in the night sky.

With a shrug of a twinkle,

The star dawns its nightly vigil.

One to wish upon, then two! Three becomes four!

With glimmering spurts they appear in groves.

They add hope in the colorless void that so recently was filled with blue.

Strange hulks of shapes linger just out of our little lights range.

Dense fog flits in through the hills.

Night sounds creep past us as we continue on our way.

With pillow against the window,

I doze until dawn.

Butterflies

by Trevor Parker

I’m hiking along the ridge trail that leads up from Twin Peaks to Black Peak. Twin Peaks are a double peak, shaped like a camel’s humps, that sit on the first foot hills overlooking Salt Lake City. Black Peak is three and a half miles further up this ridge that leads to the main spine of the Wasatch mountains.

Once past Twin Peaks, the sounds of the city quickly fade. The wind roars over the mountains. Nature becomes much more abundant: there are falcons, eagles, slow horny toads, fast spotted lizards, and many insects. It is spring and flowers are in bloom. The hillsides are covered with big yellow blossoms and dark blue flowers. The grass is green. Higher up there is still deep snow clasping to the peaks contrasting with the spring life around me. It is all very beautiful.

A shadow by my foot brings me to a stop. I look down and see that the shadow is actually a very large and very hairy caterpillar scurrying across the trail. It stops suddenly, sensing me. It is unsure of how to continue. I crouch down and stare at it. It is large and fat. It has long spiky black hair tipped with tan. There are a few red markings around its squat head. Two large black eyes, taking up all of the bug’s face, regard me. Then with enough time already lost, the caterpillar rushes around my foot with amazing speed and heads into the rocks and grass to the side of the trail. I follow it, bending over close to the ground and watching its progress.

And it hits me. This fat caterpillar has been eating well, and is in search of another healthy plant to consume. I look over and see a tall flower whose leaves are shredded and eaten. Its beauty already draining from the peddles as the plant’s life ebbs. This little caterpillar and so many like it live off of destroying the beauty around us. This ugly little caterpillar eats the things that make the mountain beautiful. If left unchecked, the caterpillars can bring destruction to whole forests and mountainsides. Luckily I came across it. I will not leave it unchecked.

I stand. Movement catches my eye. I am distracted from my current train of thought as a large yellow and black butterfly bobs in the wind in front of me. It is very large, as big as the palm of my hand. The yellow is vibrant and lays in stripes of varying shape and size on the black wings. It creates an intriguing pattern so articulate and breathe taking, it makes me wonder how nature consistently creates these types of things, and never repeats a pattern. The black of the wings is also captivating. As the butterfly dances through the breeze, the black shifts and sparkles subtly. It is iridescent. I have seen these tiger butterflies countless times and never noticed this before.

The butterfly swoops down onto the devastated flower to my side; respite from the struggle with the wind. I think this butterfly is really beautiful. It adds to the feeling of spring that surrounds me. In fact, as wonderful as the mountains are right now, wouldn’t it be more incredible if these majestic butterflies were everywhere? Swarms of them swirling in the air. They would drink a little from the flowers, but otherwise leave the mountain unharmed. It would be magic.

The butterfly lifts off the flower and flutters on along the ridge. I follow it with my eyes and thank it for visiting me, and then I turn and continue on my hike. But I suddenly remember the caterpillar, and my previous train of thought.

I turn back, and locating the caterpillar, squish it with the heel of my boot. Good riddance to bad rubbish. One less caterpillar to destroy the beauty that surrounds me. I then continue on up the mountain trail hoping to see just one more butterfly…