Sunday, April 12, 2015

Butterfly

Listening to Joshua Radin tonight, I drew cards for inspiration: Anne Bradstreet and T.S. Eliot. Who knows what that means? Man. More poetry...




Butterfly


Butterfly,
tell me where
your wing beat
takes us,
you forward
and up;
me mowed under
by first kisses
last gasps,
and all
in between?

What avenues
taken
or abandoned
by blossoms
on a tree,
a goodbye
or a net?
A stroke
of ink,
a scent,
a wave,
the first cough,
step, or rung?

Journeys
counted
in instants
evaporated,
each breath
abandoned
for the
next.

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