With little regret they have left
flown upon the barest breeze
floated upon an updraft weightless.
Currents unseen have stirred the oval frames
formed in the early light of fragrant Spring
and lifted from the pistils core, the wing.
How high, beyond the branches they did fly
and float, upon the shred of taciturn air to ground
to lay in porcelain fragility upon the greenest grass.
They rest now, upon the pastures mossy green
and curl their edges inward, as do we all,
when left to lay ‘pon holy ground.
Poet: Debbie Guzzi