They stared in silence at the spectacle a little while longer before Michael ripped his attention from the astounding creature and spoke again.
“I found it on an Earth. The place isn’t as beautiful as most of your others, but something miraculous is happening there…”
With a puzzled look Gabriel asked, “What is this miracle of which you speak, Michael?”
God, who was still studying the butterfly intently, turned around slowly with eyes closed, pivoting on the spot just by imagining He could do so. Inhaling a breath and exhaling gauzy mist, God answered His curious angel’s question with one word.
His eyes flew open, the most vibrant of green irises filling the place of the usual placid gray ones. Flowers began to sprout at His feet, pushing away the sleepy fog as they embellished the simple, clouded void with color and scent and life. God inhaled once more and seedlings rose forth from the ground, rising towards a light that glowed from within them, like the one that lit the eyes of God as He grew the trees to an age of perfection. Their leaves rustled in a seemingly pleased manner as His eyes returned to their normal shade and the breeze twisted its fingers through His silver hair.
Together, Gabriel and Michael stood basking in the glory and the power of the Creator. One angel was resigned and awed and thankful. The other: hotheaded, jealous, and plotting. Gabriel bowed his head as Michael raised his chin. God sensed that change was imminent.
Sitting down in the bowed branch of a sprawling tree with papery bark, God held out His hand and allowed the butterfly to land on the smooth, unwrinkled surface of His perfect palm.
“What is it, Michael?”
“Butterfly,” Michael responded, trying to lessen the stony sound of his voice.
“You know that’s not what I speak of, my angel,” God replied patiently.