The Spring Butterfly

Sat in stillness on the small cedar

For what seemed like an eternity!

You think you have control –

or do I give it of my own Volition

For all you know –

this isn’t about control

Perhaps it is about Trust

It is a shallow mind –

not to see this.

A rogue Warrior

wanders the earth

There is no escape –

– As time stands still

 

Cluttered with memories

He can’t seem to find

The decades comingle –

in a capsule of time

 

Searching for a feeling

Through a place, song or view

It’s been with him  a lifetime

Yet nothing at all is true.

No morning birds today

– after the spray.

Perhaps I’ll clean my windows.

 

In less than a day

the spring flowers Lie flat.

The masked man lingers  –  then moves on

when the Rains arrive!

Although I am consulted,

I know there is no choice.

The man in the mask

and the Orange suit

Has Arrived

Green is Green –

In whatever form it takes

The buttercups choke out the grass

As they Salute to the Sun.

The pink Capsule hangs in the Honey Suckle

Two days the Crow stays!

– then leaves when the rain comes

Two bottles of wine – one red one white

Two benzos – both white and small

A Mother’s Purple Comforter –

The Seagull; I haven’t seen yet…

I took my glasses off
To see clearly on the trail;
A cool wind on my cheek
Moving water beneath the bridge
Gravel under feet
The horn of a distant train
A buzzing aircraft – wondering if they can see me
As I stand amidst the Four Cedars.

The stairway stood in time

As orange changed into gold

A flame was left to Seethe

Then Smoldered in the cold

Persistent and continual

The never-ending burn

A spark was all that’s needed

For all I hold and yearn.