Sugarcane Butterflies
Over the tarred road lies a land we seldom search
of whispering winds through sugarcane hills.
Spills of sunlight chilled on butterfly wings,
carrying me graciously through the open space
as my heart’s bass beats to the insect's sound...
the freedom of the hills is unbound,
wild...
like the sunflower’s yellow to the sky,
trickled water marks over the dry stream bed,
out here...
even the dead is still alive.
Sugarcane butterflies of mad colours bristle
through the breeze that whistles around my limbs,
as whims of flying invade my soul...
persuade my heart to melt out into the day
and rediscover what it is to play.
Without dwell...
Earth’s love swells and grows my mind,
finds that sparkle that finds my smile
as I am left fertile in the land that surrounds.
Noises of the tarred road are drowned by the depth,
by the breath of the tree leaves that rustle,
the birds that bustle about the deep, green valley,
vitality...
Out here, is rich like pure honey without dime.
Just life...
Just time...
Existing as it should,
could this be magic misunderstood?
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