After tempestuous midsummer nights,
rain-quenched grasses rippling waist-high
pulsate with shards of life - blue sparks, discharged,
electrified, as if from vaults of noonday skies,
emerging from the chrysalis like new-born souls, to dry.
Light grooms them for their nuptial flight,
their brief sojourn and mystic rite -
the heart beat of the universe made visible, externalised -
for joy so deeply realised that spirits, ever soaring free,
oblivious to brevity and gravity,
witness in ecstasy their wings' demise.
Ulysses Butterflies
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104013100408
Свидетельство о публикации №104013100408
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