Winter Vii - Butterflies Behind the Snow

The snow covering the ground Out my window Goes on like torn-out pages From my empty journal Striped with a shadow from an old Red Maple A bookmark To the Monarch’s migration From the mountains of Mexico To here Where we wait the four generations It takes For the butterflies’ Arrival To drink from a cup of Michigan milkweed Pedaling their wings On the lakes of our wind Weighting the Earth just enough To keep the orbit in its gentle place Rippling around the violet sun And from these passing quiet gestures My book of pages stirs and flutters I look up Find a prayer of words to move forward.