The Butterflies of Turnabout Woods
Turnabout Woods blooms in the beetle plowed pulp.
Living there in the tenancy of the sun
golden butterflies make their home.
At times they visit small cottage gardens
to write romantic novels,
pages that appear sporadically
on the underside of toadstools.
At midday they bathe like turtles on the rocks.
In Spring, Bluebell herds bunch
then on a hunch, breakaway
following fictional trails.
None are sure
if the light sinks deeper than life here.
The butterflies don’t care,
like arboreal Gods, they look down,
as we crawl between
the mulched roots
of our own fairytales.
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