The Whirling Butterfly

Written by: Karen van Wyk

I stepped into a world of pinks, reds, yellow, and purple.
Bee’s, butterflies, and hummingbirds flying free!
Long flowing stems swaying,  in a soft summer breeze.
An aroma, fresh cut hay, teasing my nose!
Smiling, I recall that day…  not so long ago.
Closing my eyes,  I inhale a welcomed scent.

Looking up with dark green eyes -
I feel my Grandmothers smile warm my face.
Calloused finger grasping my small hand. 
Pointing, she drew my eye to a small delicate thing.
Pink wings and tiny feelers,  swaying in the wind!
She bent slowly, whispering, in my eager ear, 
“It’s a Whirling Butterfly”
She said, with a giggle and a sigh.

Time passes quickly, like rushing waters of a fall.
In my garden now, pinks, reds, purple and yellows.
Bee’s, butterflies, and hummingbirds fly free.
Delicate stems, dancing, to music, of an evening breeze.
Movements, drawing me, to a special place.
Pointing, I show my Granddaughter the prize! 
Excited, she looks at me with her big blue eyes.

I smile, tenderly at the soft red curls
sofly lying around her sweet little face.
Tears swell, in a dusty throat, 
as she grasps my calloused finger.
She spies the pink wings, the yellow feelers, 
swaying in the wind.

Whispering, “ It’s a Whirling Butterfly ” 
I almost cry! With a giggle, and a sigh.