I am dancing to the music of the autumn wind as he pipes his way across this meadow that lies at the summit of a hill. I am dancing with the myriad of bright yellow butterflies here where the alfalfa is so green it hurts the eyes.

I'm dancing under the dome of a morning glory sky even as flock after flock of Canadian geese wind their way to the sunny lands of the south. The sound of their bugling cries carries across the hills and far out over the farms and villages. They are bidding farewell to us until the south wind calls them back again in the spring.

I dance with the yellow butterflies on this sparkling autumn day to keep a promise I made more than thirty years ago. The one to whom I made this hopeful promise has long since joined his ancestors, but I am here dancing with the lemon colored butterflies as I did then and I am remembering that other golden autumn day when it was easy to believe in a forever time, a time that would never end. But time is not like that. Take the autumn wind it carries change, but a promise made still must be a promise kept. I laughed that day long ago and said to him “I shall dance here like this as I dance now when I am seventy five”.

The years have been kind to me. I still can climb with ease this hill upon whose summit is the meadow where the sun colored butterflies yet dance amid the vivid green alfalfa under a sapphire sky.

In the distance one can glimpse the lake still sparkling in the sunlight no different than it did then and has done since the glaciers melted ten thousand years ago. Around me a thousand yellow butterflies weave their magic flight patterns in the sweet scented air and I am as young as I was when first I danced with them. Age means little to me. It has nothing to do with how I perceive myself though others may not agree. All that matters is that I am alive, that I can still dance as I dance then.

I do not know if I shall ever come again to this place of happy memories. I make no such promises today. It is enough to know that I kept my promise even though his physical presence is no longer here as he was then.

It's enough to know a promise, even lightly given, has been kept and I danced one last time with a flock of yellow butterflies to the rhythm of the autumn wind.