See the Butterfly

This piece is born from a walk in the woods, a walk on the Appalachian Trail. I first jotted a few words in my journal. Later, those words were reborn here. I’ve yet to discover a title. It will find me soon enough.

Image result for black butterfly

 

See the butterfly,
black, black as ink,
but dusted,
lightly, gently,
with the sky’s blue,

see its dodge
and weave,
a dancing kite,
its lunge
and climb,

etching its name
on the afternoon’s
aging parchment

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