Morning Cremation

Morning Cremation #2 Morning Cremation Soul treading water A butterfly pinned Cruel trophy Not even under glass, discarded Exposed to what the sky can give Powdered wings, dusting lost Pulled off in a gust, dropped In the tall grass of complex dances Caught, I swing and sway, mute to questions Even I had my limit, now all gone but My quiet rage An ember set to ignite, the wind Picks up a stilled wing, I catch a thermal, a tiny fireball I'll look pretty as I tumble by though.