A breeze flipped the leaf. The garden below went swoosh.
Morrow grabbed on with tiny feet. Morrow blinked at the bright sky. "What's about to happen?"
The leaf tasted fresh and peppery. Morrow took one bite. Then another. Then another.
But the question stayed close. What's about to happen?
The branches rustled overhead. Morrow listened every time.
Then Morrow spun a silky thread. Wrap, wrap, wrap.
Soon a snug chrysalis hung in the branches, like a little green lantern.
Inside the hush, Morrow listened. Tap-tap. Rain touched the outside.
"Oh," said Morrow. Everything became still.
Then came a soft rip.
Morrow tumbled out. Two surprising wings stuck to Morrow's sides like wet paper fans.
Morrow froze. Then came one wobbly flap.
Morrow waited. Slowly, the wings smoothed. Slowly, they widened.
Then Morrow lifted from the branch.
Morrow floated over the quiet garden in a patchwork of sun and shade.
Cool air brushed around Morrow. Leaves shimmered below. Morrow laughed. "So this is what was about to happen."
