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.
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