Saturday, February 27, 2016

Butterfly


























I will always remember that butterfly, and that once in a lifetime event, as described in today's poem.


I remember precisely the hillside on which I was sitting when the butterfly found me.


I had been mowing the grounds of a friend's summer home in Southern Ohio. It was a hot, steamy day. The mower had become balky, so I decided we both needed a rest ... a bit of cooling off.


I was just sitting there, hoping for a bit of breeze, when it happened. But let's let the poem tell what occurred:


BUTTERFLY

I remember sitting
so still, feeling
the sweat trickling
down my back, beading
along my forearms,
a touch like
an angel's breath
when a butterfly
fluttered down
onto my sunburned
hand and sat there
for the longest time
before sipping
that moisture born
of hard labor, then
lifted lightly off, wafted
away like a dream.
© 1996

(originally published in Read, America!)

Today's word: wafted

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