An admiral butterfly, its ungainly grace it flutters its random path through the open meadow filled with dandelion seed, the long summer grass dances in the cooling air and the fading light of another summer evening. The creature comes to rest on a slender blade of grass; ts limbs fold round the slender stem and its wings close like the leaves of a book as though the day’ chapter is over...its proboscis unfurls and almost invisible at its tip, it clutches a small card. The butterfly scans the meadow, looks to his watch, sighs, tuts loudly, then shakes his head; 'late again' he grumbles. At that point a moth flutters into view, he is panting and red-faced and he lands with a thud next to the butterfly who is clearly annoyed at his colleague’s tardiness. 'Late again' says the butterfly smugly sighing. The moth concocts a set of hastily stuttered excuses as per usual. The Butterfly says nothing as he 'clocks out' for the dayshift and the moth, in turn, 'clocks in' with his own timecard as darkness begins to fall and the night shift begins.
