Cracking through his crusty skin,
the butterflies await therein;
In trembling light, antennae perched
in front, ahead, and primed to lurch;
The quavered sense that life’s amiss
somehow obscures the hours of bliss;
the chores and drudge originate,
perspective laid upon his plate;
It stretches out, then snaps again
around a fix-ed clutch of ken,
persona-non-so gratified as truth
confirmed with startled eyes;
The darkness plunges overhead,
a trembling, aching fear and dread;
As sensate options push and shove,
pure mercy fills him with its love;
The spell is cast, illusion broken,
he lives no more like pawn or token,
and from a trusting, willing mind
white magic steals in from behind.
Butterfly House, Botanical Gardens, Albuquerque, NM ~ 2019 Bela Johnson
I love butterflies and this poetic homage is simply beautiful in every line. The photos are a wonder. Aloha!!
Many thanks, Renee! I am so looking forward to seeing a variety of butterflies and hummingbirds, once again! Hawaii is magic, no doubt about it. And they do not have hummingbirds, which I have truly missed to my soul. 💞
Lovely butterfluts! It’s time for me to revisit our local butterfly house – a good respite from the bleak winter days.
Yes! Fun times. ☺️
So beautiful…
Mahalo, Vidur! 🙏
Beautiful
Thanks, sweetie. 🙏💜
Just beautifully penned dear Bela.. And there is something quite magical about the transformation process we see from Caterpillar to Butterfly.. And your poem captured it perfectly..
Lovely photos.. Which warmed my spirit this cold winter’s day.. <3 🦋🐛🦋🐛💖