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Butterflies and grandmothers
Are very much alike
If you’re new to Russian language,
And you hear them side by side.

I met a native speaker
Who was confused by my conflation,
Not hearing the sameness
Which I heard as imitation.

I wonder if my eyes would see
A nearly alike aura
Comparing Order Grandmomia
With that of Lepidoptera.

They are both past their unfolding,
Beyond strenuous transition,
That engraved them with clear markings
Of their “older now” position.

Both creatures thrive in sunshine,
And stretches of dry weather.
Their bodies hide from rain or snow.
Their concerns are light as feathers.

Both delight as visitors,
Unless flighty behavior
Brings them over boundaries
And (slightly) out of favor.

Without the Russian language,
I might not compare the two.
But my mind looks at the evidence
And sees that it is true.

Grandmothers are butterflies,
For whom our awe is due.