Today I stood in the garden,
listening to the sounds of summer.

Then I saw a white butterfly
lying in the grass.

He was still.
His wings were spread
flat against the ground.
His body faced the sky,
as if he were lying on his back.

I bent closer.

At first,
I thought he was dead.

But then I saw
his small legs moving.

He was alive,
but he could not turn.
He could not lift his wings.
He could not fly.

Before I could help,
two white butterflies arrived.

They did not circle above him.
They did not pass by.

They came down
without hesitation.

Each settled beside one wing.

Then, with their small legs,
they helped him turn.

His body found its balance.
His wings lifted.

And suddenly,
all three were flying together.

They danced through the air,
as if celebrating
the return of flight.

I remained there, still,
with goosebumps on my skin.

The garden was singing again,
but something had changed.

Maybe they came
to remind me
that help does not need to be asked for,
that presence alone
can lift what cannot lift itself.

Maybe some rescues
need no witness,
no praise,
no reason
to be seen.

Only life,
helping life rise,
when it could not rise alone.

Jan Tomas