Trace Baldwin Poet Free verse

The Monarch

I saw it fly across my path. 
From north to south. 
On a hot summer day in Oklahoma. 

Monarch colors glistened in the low western sun. 
Its fragile wings beating to the rhythm of a tiny heart. 

I wondered. 

Was it thinking of a meal?
A pretty flower at the end of day?

Never thought it would be swept away. 
In a rush of glass and steel. 
Trapped and helpless in a wiper blade. 
Headed East on 51 toward the still water. 

So I stopped and examined the powder. 
Left when it hit. 
As if an airliner went down. 
Wreckage strewn along a trail. 

Leading to it. 
Alone with a broken wing.  

Not understanding the hand setting it free,
and placing it carefully,
on a bed of clover, 
beside the road. 

Then moving on.  

E.G. Maynard. 
46 & 2. 


3.

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