on our walk through the knee deep waves
of grasses - seeds all feathers and spears and
tiny baubles like the art projects of fairies – a
dead butterfly was slung before me
fallen in grace, veined wings splayed
across a swooping stem, legs mid-pedal
and eyes still grazing the hovering blue
such delicacy crossing my path seemed enormous
in its meaning – its future defined on some
leaf by a smattering of tiny eggs like the way
we have read the stars – humanity’s understanding
of the distant white braille in our sky. and then
I returned home to learn that that small life had a
two percent chance against spiders and other
predation. that morsel of breezy colour
emerged from a soupy chrysalis all scaled
to reflect the sun and catch the eye of a suitor.
to dance like beauty is its main event
and to die there upside down in unspoiled repose.
and then that I walked that way and found it
there - a gift handed to me by the grey
ticklish clouds of a hooded summer morning.
So much sweet symmetry in this one, Worms. The egg constellations and the butterfly. I like how you contemplate its purpose, and the point of it all, but the ‘hooded summer morning’ is my favorite image. Can butterflies reinvent their purposes? Can any of us? Cheers.
by sheer chance, one of my favourite podcasters had interviewed an Entomologist and when I got home I cleaned the oven and learned all about butterflies. According to this expert, butterflies have short and focused lives. I would fail as a butterfly – get distracted by a pretty flower and forget to breed. 😀
This sent my head roiling into a spin about chances. What are the chances that you’d walk in the direction of that butterfly, the chances of life, short or long, well-spent or mis-spent. Sometimes the concept of chance can entrap a person. This is a brilliant, multilayered poem.
So much sweet symmetry in this one, Worms. The egg constellations and the butterfly. I like how you contemplate its purpose, and the point of it all, but the ‘hooded summer morning’ is my favorite image. Can butterflies reinvent their purposes? Can any of us? Cheers.
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by sheer chance, one of my favourite podcasters had interviewed an Entomologist and when I got home I cleaned the oven and learned all about butterflies. According to this expert, butterflies have short and focused lives. I would fail as a butterfly – get distracted by a pretty flower and forget to breed. 😀
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😂 Yes, well the simplicity of a life finding flowers and floating. Must say, it appeals right now, but I do enjoy the breeding.
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LOL
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There’s a tenderness to this that I love. The distant white braille of the stars is a lovely metaphor.
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Many thanks!!!
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👍
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A beautiful poem,depicting vivid imagery.Well done!
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Many thanks! 🙂
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You’re welcome.
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It all pivotted on that “2%” for me.
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This sent my head roiling into a spin about chances. What are the chances that you’d walk in the direction of that butterfly, the chances of life, short or long, well-spent or mis-spent. Sometimes the concept of chance can entrap a person. This is a brilliant, multilayered poem.
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Thanks Misky, for your generous thoughts. 🙂 It all does seem pretty chancy when you think about it too hard.
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I love the intricacy of this, the celebration of the minute
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Thanks, John!
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Wow! I really like this one. And how chance plays a role in our lives.
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Thanks, Bob!
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