Out of the clouds, an angel appeared. He landed lightly by God’s side and embraced His still marble form. The angel settled his head on the Creator’s chest and smelled rain on fertile soil. Rain was not only God’s expression of joy, or anger, or sorrow, but what the angel smelled as he laid a cheek to His cool statuesque torso. God was the smell of rain.

            “Do you see what I’ve brought, God? See what I’ve found?” Michael withdrew his folded arms and pressed his gently closed palms into God’s side like an eager child, rustling the thick plumage of his white wings.

            “Look, look, look, please, God, please look,” Michael begged.

            “Not yet, Michael, I’m busy. Hold on for just a moment,” God answered with a calm, steady voice. He stared at a nonexistent point as He focused on something off in the distance.

            “It’s already been a moment, a thousand moments!” Michael cried, “Every now and every when and will be and once was has passed already and will forever continue to pass! Your ‘moment’ is as agonizing as an eternity!”

            God sighed, “What is it?”

            Michael carefully opened his hands and allowed forth a brilliant green flutter.

            “Butterfly,” God breathed.

            “Butterfly,” Michael repeated with awe. God and the angel stared as the verdant butterfly took wing and began a circle around its strange new environment. The novel wonders that Michael brought Home never ceased to amaze any of them. As the eyes of God and Michael watched the butterfly’s convoluted patterns of flight, Gabriel swooped down and landed with a puff of clouds at his feet. His gaze, too, was riveted upon the fragile wings of the beautiful insect as it danced across the endless space, in its effortless aerial ballet.

            “What is that?” asked Gabriel.

            “Butterfly,” God and Michael said in unison.

            “Butterfly,” Gabriel repeated, “It’s beautiful."

The End

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