I faced the blank page yet again, all fired up about finally getting some writing done. I let the words come to me, but they quickly evaporated, leaving me frustrated. I wasn’t in the ‘zone’. The little noises irked me. I cursed the construction workers with their loud, annoying machines. I fled the solitude of my room, only to be surrounded by the sound of human conversation, which was equally distracting. I escaped into the garden, hoping for a measure of peace. But even there, my expectations were dashed as the chirp of birds and the scurrying of little squirrels gnawed away at my concentration. Time ticked by and the page was still more than half empty. I scratched out the few words that were on it out of exasperation. My patience was gone. I was about to return indoors and call it quits when a butterfly fluttered past, settling lightly on my hand. It fluttered its magnificently coloured wings and probed around, tickling me. It was an unfamiliar experience and I did not dare to move, letting it take its time to realize I wasn’t the flower it was looking for. It gradually did, leaving me with the gift of pollen. I smiled as I noticed how the little creature had grabbed my attention, making me forget all about the world around me for those few seconds. Suddenly, the words began to form coherent sentences in my head. I reset the timer on my phone. I sat down where I was and scribbled away with unforeseen clarity. The ten minutes were up and my page was more blue than white. I marvelled at the end product, thanking the butterfly that became my inspiration.