My beloved monarch or milkweed butterfly, Your many-miles migration may mystify, Are you migrate from Antarctica or Australia or America?, How do you ascertained this area?, Your journey holds spiritual significance, It serves as a symbol of existence.
The veins in the leaf are molecules that transport water along with sugar - you say where, to the brain, to what, the nuclease of what the plant is, what?
The soil is only so deep, large trees dig deep, small flowers don't have the capacity.
There is a dichotomy, there is a richness, a beauty, a world in the mechanism of the plant life that surrounds everyone.
Everyday you see the birds, the ground squirrels, the ants and spiders, the
milkweed butterfly, the cloud in the sky, the rows of corn, the sheep and the goat, the cow, and the chick, fish, and the wheat,
but there is more.
The flowers, the clay, the bare Earth from water that filters down through.
People do not talk, at least not enough as history shows quite clearly
That is what I think.
I am not blaming the next, I never had before believed
that the solution would be left up to the few
but if you would, please take the pulse of the leaf each year,
just place a leaf down and push a crayon over it in order to show
it's imprint. Just do it as a simple experiment on your own.
Please.
In city rush hour.
on my rear driving mirror
milkweed butterfly.
Written: July 28, 2021
A Brian Strand August Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
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