Chaste flutterings of wings, a butterfly,
defies the elements to dance
in the last shaft of autumn light, unreasoned
sustaining the beauty of the season.
While other butterflies turn to groundwork,
patches of hoary grass abounding,
your wings floating
on a flower’s last stand,
such sweet nectar exploding
for you are free of both what was
and what soon will be;
for you defy all the elements
to account for this,
a pure moment of bliss.
Note: My classmate Mary Lou reminded me of the butterflies in fall. I always think of the leaves! Thanx, Mary Lou