It’s a bird. It’s a plane. It’s confetti with wings. No. It’s little butterflies. Or moths. Hundreds of them. Aloft in the wind. Like ashes blowing hither and yon. Never alighting. Perpetually flying. And flitting. And fast, too. Moths, as compared to butterflies, are generally smaller. And less brightly colored. Thus spake Trusty Webster. But moths are chiefly night flyers. So there goes that. Must be butterflies. Small, drab day trippers. Flut ...