(Pieris marginalis)

The small white winged thing
whose name I did not yet know
was the third insect I relocated
today from inside to out.

The first an oblong black bug
crawling on the tan tile,
easy to see, step on, but,
as is my habit, if I can catch

it without damaging it,
I give it the old college try,
scooping it into cupped hands
and carrying it to the sliding

glass door. Emerging into
bright sun and leaning
over the deck, I set it into
tall grass. The second

crawly, a bit harder to catch,
also went into grass.
But the white butterfly
resting against the kitchen

window required more
assistance than my hands
could offer. So, summoning
you, I wondered aloud

if we might momentarily
remove the screen, prompting
your oh, Janis sigh. You who
always assess situations more

carefully than I, surveyed
the screen from inside
and out before climbing
a two-step ladder outside

and gently released the
screen. Pieris marginalis
stayed put, though I’d have
thought that an inflow

of fresh air might lure it
back into the wild. Nope.
“Nudge it with a wooden
spoon,” you suggested

from your perch. And, on
tiptoe, I did, so quickly, that
what I later learned was
a margined white butterfly

flitted into the day, aiming
into the blue, as two humans
grinned at the wee visitor
winging off into the wider

world, alone.