36
I see how strong a fragile thing can be.
Look! A butterfly comes fluttering
over its own reflection hovering
out in the middle of a pond so deep
and close you’d think no insect strength could last
the distance needed to reach land, yet up
it goes above the wide-mouthed bass that jumps
and death itself waits for it to stick fast
get soggy and drown. Like a visible song
singing against all odds in gusts of wind
that ought to knock it down, it’s carried in
every limb beyond the half sunk log
coming to spread its beating wings and soar
vanishing in the branches on the shore.
…