Faith Hope & Fiction

I’m surrounded by
a large pink field of blossoming milkweed
and countless butterflies
cruising the buds for nectar.

There are monarchs,
many silver-spots,
a solitary black swallowtail.

They choose a flower,
sip, then suddenly rise up,
play-scrap with each other
before settling down again
on their respective plants.

The wind-blown perfume
is almost too sweet
to be breathed

And their beauty,
almost too delicate to live.

Instinct does a job
my rationalizing never could.

Warm sunshine
then marbled clouds
and showers.
Perfect stillness
interrupted by
occasional gusts of wind.

Bluebird on a trunk,
advancing and retreating
at my presence,
before deciding to charm me
with its soft elusive trill.

Leaves waltz across
the floor of the woods.
Giant raindrops ask
for the next dance.
Pines clash and sway,
back and forth
like big green umbrellas.

Then dusk,
clouds break,
leftover light
glows through windows
in the wildness.