Sunrise greets the young caterpillar, eager to begin her final day.
Blissfully ignorant, she casts her gaze upon the verdant valley of her youth.
She travels onward, to the baker’s log cabin, and sits upon the mushroom marbletops.
A bridge is all that stands between the young caterpillar and her friend, the humble honeybee.
There, her friend flits dutifully—wings lightly dusted in amber snow.
Banners of onyx and gold half-hidden amidst the jeweled Jade blossoms.
A crisp, autumnal wind tosses her gaze upwards, to lie amongst the proud maple’s branches.
Evening sees the skies release their salt-laced tears, no stranger to the future.
She searches for dry shelter, strangely tired after so short a day.
Darkness dons its velvety cloak, snuffing out the last weak rays of mourning.
Then… dawn. Alleyways of lavender beckon her forth, into a future, unknown.
Sunrise greets the young swallowtail—eager—to begin.