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Tuesday, April 3, 2012

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Poem: Sleeping Butterfly


Spring arrives in gentle reminders.
First came the hosts of daffodils,
Poking out their flowerless stems like green swords.
Second came the black-faced pansies, ringing the gray poles
The dark half moons on jewel tones.
Third came the sterile cherry trees bursting into white clouds.
Fourth, though perhaps first,
(For who knows, the things beneath our shoes are never noticed),
Came the clover and dandelion choked ground.
But I know spring arrived before the trees ever budded
Their child leaves.
Because when I was still wrapped in the cold hush of winter,
I gazed upon the silver mottled cocoon
Hanging to bare rickety branches.

The butterfly sleeps.
Change of season it keeps.
And when it awakes,
All the blossoms shake.

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