The butterflies are free.
The caterpillar does all the work,
What the caterpillar calls the end of the world,
And now from having ridden out desire
They lie closed over in the wind and cling
Where wheels have freshly sliced the April mire.
~Robert Frost, "Blue-Butterfly Day"
The butterfly is a flying flower,
is always just beyond your grasp, but which,
if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.
Self-poised upon that yellow flower
And, little Butterfly! Indeed, I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless! - not frozen seas
Flowers and butterflies drift in color, illuminating spring.
Not quite birds, as they were not quite flowers,
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
at 7:36 AM
Created by Southern Lady